


The Stories of Trym Talbot

by Blueseelie



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Midsummer Night's Dream - Shakespeare
Genre: Canon Non-Binary Character, Concubine, Content warnings in the notes, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Faerie Realm, Fantasy, Femdom, Fighter, Gentle Dom, Multiclass, Other, Psychological Torture, Seelie Court, Smut, Warlock - Freeform, dnd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:27:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 32,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28150131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueseelie/pseuds/Blueseelie
Summary: The backstory and aftermath of my Dungeons and Dragons character, Trym Talbot, my halfling warlock/fighter with a soldier background. They made a pact for warlock magic with Titania, the Seelie Court Queen, after discovering their entire village had been burned down and their wife was gone. Most of this takes place after a campaign I played with my friends in which Trym ended up being pulled into the Faerie Realm after disobeying yet another order from Titania.On the level of smut, none of this is really graphic. The only that really makes this adult is violence and gore.
Relationships: Trym/Titania





	1. Backstory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little backstory that takes place after Trym had made a pact with Titania and before the campaign I played with my friends. I might add more backstory bits later on.  
> (Amadán Dathúil isn't another character, it's the Queen's pet name for Trym. Translates to Handsome Fool in Irish Gaelic, which is what Sylvan is in my mind.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alcohol, and mentions of sex.

As Trym opened the door to the tavern, the noise rushed out to greet them. They dug their hands into their pockets, hiding the dried blood stuck under their fingernails. A seat opened up at the far left of the bar and Trym quietly took it. A barmaid appeared before them. 

“What'll it be tonight?”

“Whatever’s cheapest and strongest,” they mumbled to the table. 

Today had been a long one. Having ordered, Trym sunk into their seat. It wasn’t everyday their patron sent them on a wild goose chase that ended in having to kill someone gruesomely. It wasn’t like this was their first or anything. Trym had served in the army. Despite their caution, their few unfortunate encounters with the enemy had always ended in Trym's favor. That's ultimately what brought them home, they suspected. The barmaid returned, placing a glass and a bottle in front of them. 

“You look like you need this,” she said with a wink. She leaned onto the counter, shelving her breasts up on the table. “There’s sure to be someway you can pay me back for my generosity...” 

Trym leaned back on their stool to inspect the ceiling. How long had it been? How long since they’d held their wife, their beautiful Netta? She was the reason for all this and they had never once regretted the choices they’d made for her sake. Trym threw back the glass and poured another. 

“Don't worry Miss, I have the silver right here,” Trym said smiling as they pulled out a small pouch of coins. Trym, downed the second and hopped down from the stool. 

“Aw, what's the matter? I thought you halflings fucked like rabbits?” The barmaid whined from behind the counter but Trym was already halfway across the tavern.

The barmaid reached for the coin on the bar but instead of making contact with the bag, her hand swept through nothing as the pouch vanished. 

“You fucking witchy bastard!” she shouted, reaching for a crossbow under the counter. But Trym was already out of the door and running.

Swinging around the corner of a building, Trym leaned back against the wall and laughed breathily, the bottle of booze swinging from their hand. They took a deep drink from the bottle and started to make their way through the paths between the houses. Trym’s head was starting to feel a little fuzzy.

The smell of flowers and honey suddenly invaded their nose. 

“I don’t appreciate it when you do things like that,” a voice sung in their ear. “I abhor dishonesty.”

“Don’t talk to me about honesty. You promised to give me power and the most I can do are these fucking illusions and charms. How the fuck else am I going to get any use out of your fucking faerie magic.”

The solid gold bands on Trym’s upper arms tightened, forcing them to drop the bottle and let it shatter on the ground. Trym knelt and winced at the pain. Stubbornly, Trym crouched there silently, arms slack, enduring the pain and denying her the satisfaction. But the tingling in their fingers started to turn into numbness and they knew that if they persisted for much longer, they were liable to lose a finger due to blood loss. Trym ground their teeth together and then relaxed their face, forcing out the words with as much sincerity as they could muster. 

“I’m sorry, my dear Queen Titania.” The bands loosened themselves.

“Truly, I never anticipated it would be this hard to teach you manners, my little Amadán. You make it so much harder for yourself.” Her laugh almost sounded like birdsong. “I’ve put together another little chase for you.”

A hazelnut bounced down the road and rolled to a stop on the ground in front of where Trym had just gotten up to lean against a wall. They took their foot and ground the nut into the dirt, destroying the shell. Moving their foot revealed a small roll of paper, now crumpled, no doubt a riddle of some sort.

“Thank you, my Queen. May I ask about the relevance of this particular assignment? The blacksmith who you sent me to kill had seemingly never had any run-ins with faeries and he was very confused as to why he had to die.” Trym said in a flat voice.

“These things aren’t of your concern, pet. But since you asked so sweetly, I will grace you with an answer. There’s a certain book that the humans have put together that I would like to have in my collection and I would like you to fetch it for me.”

Trym’s voice betrayed their excitement. “A book of spells?” Her laugh rang through their head again.

“Oh no no no, little Amadán! I’ve become ever so bored in my realm and the fairy tales that humans come up with fascinate me.” Trym’s face returned to a scowl. “That’s all. Have fun, my pet.” The smell of pig shit and alcohol returned and Trym stooped down to pick up the message from the ground. Another bullshit riddle, sending them to a town a week away. Trym kicked away the broken glass, rotated the bands on their sore arms, and headed off to find another bar in another godforsaken town.


	2. Breaking the Pact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trym learns what happens when you break a deal with Seelie Queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place directly after Trym was removed from the main campaign never to be seen again by the party and assumed dead.
> 
> Essentially, the party was fighting a baddie, and one of the party members, a lycanthrope, got injured and ended up spewing a lot of werewolf blood onto the floor. Trym, dissatisfied with Titania's Faerie magic, decided "hey, I bet I would be pretty powerful if I was a werewolf and a warlock" so they got down and slurped some of said werewolf blood off the ground. By a stroke of fate, I rolled 2 nat 20s and Trym was completely immune to lycanthropy and did not become a werewolf. 
> 
> Titania was not happy so the next time Trym cast Blink, instead of appearing somewhere else in the dungeon, they appeared in the middle of the Seelie Court which is where the story picks up.

Trym landed painfully on their stomach. The soft touch of moss on their face told them exactly where they were. Trym kept their eyes closed and savored the metallic taste of blood in their mouth.

They had been so close, so fucking close. That fucking lycanthope blood would have let them track down Netta and tear who ever took her to fucking pieces.

They squeezed their eyes shut as they felt the bands tighten around their arms slowly.

“Time to get up now, dear. Come on now, we’re waiting.”

As Trym slowly got to their feet, the pain in their arms receded and Titania’s court came into view. Fae of every shape and size sat perched on the intertwining branches of trees that came together into the shape of a cathedral. Before them, reclining on a bed of flowers, lay Titania. She was being tended to by her army of sprites and lazily gazing down at Trym.

“Oh my little Amadán. What do you suppose I should do with you? Make you dance for me for the rest of time? Give you to the sea hags? Or I could have my pixies hang you from the trees by your giant ears, turn you into a decoration for my courtroom?”

Trym looked up at her. They could feel a seething anger rising from their stomach. They had been so close. What did it matter anymore, she was never going to let them go.

“Why don’t you hold up your end of our fucking deal.” The rage was slowly building up and just starting to break through. “You promised me the power to save my wife, but your fucking faerie magic is worthless. You lied to me, you dishonest whore! You can’t touch me cause you never even had the power to hold up your end of the deal to begin with, did you, you bitch!” 

Trym stood there in the middle of the court shivering from fear and rage, mouth and shirt still covered in blood. All eyes were on them but Trym only made contact with Titania, looking directly into her soft green eyes. Neither of them broke contact. Then she giggled.

It was a girlish laugh which turned into a deep guffaw unbecoming of the queen. She lay back, crushing a pixie as she rolled over onto her back laughing. Finally, smiling she looked back at Trym.

“Oh, my sweet little Amadán. I made the right choice picking you. You clearly don’t fully understand the terms of the deal you made. I knew you would be just so much fun!” She waved and a troll stepped forward from its place beside her podium. “But as much as I enjoy your antics, you really do need to learn some manners if I’m going to keep you around.”

Trym’s anger was slowly overpowered by their fear.

“I think you need some time to yourself, my dear.” The troll was hobbling towards them. “Some time to reflect on your poor decisions, give you some perspective.” Trym struggled as the troll’s wet hand gripped their arm and hoisted them up so their feet were barely touching the ground. The cackling and chirping of Titania’s court followed them as Trym was dragged away down through damp hallways that grew subsequently darker the further they went.

Finally, they reached their destination. The troll unceremoniously threw them to the ground, and Trym, tired from struggling, just lay on the soft spongy ground as they listened to the troll stomp away. After several minutes, Trym finally lifted their head off of the ground to survey their new prison. The room seemed to be a bare cube, made of a soft mossy material that sank slightly where they stepped. Small flowers grew out of the moss on the wall, the petals giving of a faint glow which together dimly lit the room. There was no door.

Trym got down again, shuffling into a corner, and curled up, finally realizing the gravity of what it meant to make a deal with a fairy.

\---

Pressing the mossy floor hard enough created a shallow pool of clear water, not enough to drown in but enough to drink. Eventually, they discovered the small bitter green berries that grew on the moss and later found out that they were not in fact poisonous. There was no way to measure time in there. The bioluminescent flowers never waned and there were no gaps in the wall. The moss seemed to be naturally woven together and impossibly dense, completely seamless.

They thought of Netta. Of their beautiful Netta. Her face and her soft hands and her gentle voice. And then they thought of the village, burned to the ground. Finding their home reduced to a black skeleton. Finding the bodies of their parents and siblings hidden under the collapsed barn out back. Searching for hours in the rubble and ash for any sign of Netta.

They remembered blacking out in the forest waking up to see a beautiful face looking down at them. Titania wrapped in a transparent gossamer dress, her body completely visible underneath. She had laughed at them, at this dirty, drunk halfing who had collapsed in one of her forests. She had offered them a deal, in what Trym had thought to be pity at the time, to give them the power to right the wrongs done to them in exchange for their servitude to her. They woke up the next day with a small black book of spells and directions to find an artifact in a town several miles away. The spells reacted effortlessly to Trym’s incantations, the magic spewing out as if it was being siphoned from some vast reservoir. They remembered the excitement and the feeling of actual power in their hands, and the craving for more.

This cycle of memories repeated as Trym sat there huddled in the corner, interrupted only by moments of thirst or hunger. They learned quickly that they didn’t have the resolution to starve themself and there were always berries and fruits to find growing within the wall.

At a certain point, the recollections of the mistakes that had brought them here stopped spinning around in their head, settling down to a quiet emptiness or boredom, which then descended into a silent madness, devoid of coherent thought. The memories twisted themselves into nightmares. The battlefield encroached on their peaceful village, their neighbors and childhood friends now slaughtered in war instead of burning to death. Netta’s pale body, facing melting with rot, calling out for help through a mouthful of worms. The room growing smaller until Trym was forced inwards until they could see the black lump where the heart should be.


	3. Dinner with the Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trym gets released and joins Titania for dinner.

Trym was lying on their side staring at the wall when the wall parted like a curtain before them. Trym quickly scrambled to their knees and shuffled for the opening only to be shoved back by a firm kick in the shoulder. They stayed distanced from the door but attempted to get to their feet, only to fall over onto after getting dizzy and faint. Their body seemed to have atrophied.

“Please…” Their voice was scratchy and it hurt to speak but they kept trying. “Please… let me out. I’m sorry… I’ll do whatever she wants me to do.”

Trym tried again to get up but this time they managed to fall against the wall and stay upright. 

“Please…” they rasped again.

Trym heard that familiar birdsong laugh coming from the entryway.

“Oh Amadán, you look so pathetic standing there. Come out here where I can see you.” They could hear the sarcasm in her voice. Nonetheless, they shifted towards the door using the walls before falling forward onto the troll who had been holding the curtain of moss open. Trym clutched onto its wet slimy arm and looked up to see Titania smiling down at them.

“You’re such a tenacious little thing, even after all this time. It’s almost enviable. Come, my pet, it’s time for dinner.” And with that Titania turned and began to delicately walk down the dim dungeon hallway ahead of the troll who walked slowly enough for Trym use as support but without offering anything else, leaving them to grapple at its slick body each time they stumbled or got dizzy.

They made their way through the maze of corridors as it slowly got brighter as the damp smell started to fade and the mossy floor turned greener and more vibrant. The hallway spilled into a large room in which a long table, seated with the various members of Titania’s court, ran the entire length. Titania was already taking her seat at the other end of the room as the troll, with Trym clutching for support, stopped walking forward at the entrance. Nobody moved to help them make their way into a seat and as Trym looked around, they realized the only seat left was at the other end of the room, on Titania’s right side. They expected them to walk across the room on their own.

Trym let go of the Troll’s arm and began to shuffle across the floor. They stumbled and fell again and again but no one of the dinner guests moved to help them. Trym heard them whispering and giggling as they watched them struggle towards their seat and they kept their eyes on the ground to keep their balance. Finally, they collapsed into the chair next to Titania, panting and doubled over, their muscles burning from the effort.

“Glad you could make it,” Titania said, smiling down at them. “Now then, let's eat!”

A procession of servers circled the table, placing dishes before the guests in one unanimous motion. Trym's mouth was watering as the smell of whatever they had set in front of them but looked cautiously up at Titania before she smiled and nodded at them to go ahead. With unexpected energy, Trym began shoveling the variety of fruit and meats that covered their plate before suddenly and violently turning to the side to vomit onto the floor. The laughing of the dinner guests began again as Trym retched yellow bile onto the mossy carpet. They only stopped when Titania waved a hand and the hall fell silent.

“It’s been a while since they have eaten real food, we must allow them time to adjust.” She waved again and a server appeared behind Trym to remove the plate before them and replaced it with a bowl of thin porridge. “I need you to regain your strength so eat your fill.” She gently placed a hand behind Trym’s head and ruffled the overgrown curls at the nape of their neck. “We have a lot of work to do before you’ll be ready to sit at court,” she said sweetly.

“How…” They corrected themself. “My queen, how long have I been here, in the Faerie Realm. I need to know if…” Trym’s voice was quiet and scratchy but she could hear them. 

The queen smiled and pet their head again.

“Such a hard question to answer. As you know time is such a difficult thing to measure here in the Faerie realm. It’s not quite as linear as on your plane.” Her hand moved down to the back of Trym’s neck and they could feel her nails slowly digging into their skin. “But I do know for a fact that your Netta is dead, unless I’m mistaken and a halfling’s pathetic life can last for more than four centuries. The only life for you now if here, my pet, so you might as well live it to its fullest extent. And congratulations on being one of the oldest of your race.”

Trym had neither the strength nor will to pull away from her cold hand, they just waited for her to remove it so they could stare silently at the table in front of them for the rest of the meal. 


	4. The Hobogoblin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trym meets their new teacher.

Several tall slender nymphs were assigned to help Trym move and dress while they slowly built up muscle again. Compared to the prison, their quarters were drastically different. Their room was in Titania’s wing of the castle and though much less grand than the Queen’s quarters, it was nicer than anything Trym had ever stepped foot in. Trym ate meals with Titania and her courtiers but the rest of the days were spent taking walks around the palace with the nymphs. Occasionally they would be joined by Titania. The walks with her were especially slow and tedious, stopping to converse with every single faerie they passed, their dull conversation accompanied by the constant background humming of her pixie attendants buzzing around them. 

After a few weeks, the recovery period ended. Instead of being woken up by the gentle touch of the Nymphs, Trym was roughly shaken awake to be greeted by the face of a grizzled hobgoblin. As familiar Trym had become with the sometimes odd looks of the Fae, they were nonetheless surprised and scrambled to the other side of the bed.

The hobgoblin smiled. “Halflings do smell nice…” it said, grinning to show its row of overlapping shark-like teeth. “Get dressed, halfing.”

The hobgoblin threw a large leather drawstring bag up onto the bed and stood there staring at Trym. Cautiously, Trym opened the bag to find pieces of hard leaf leather armor, a material unique to the Fae Wilds made by laminating the hard fibrous leaves that grew there. Dressing by themself was tedious without the help of the Nymphs, especially with how stiff Trym had become. Tying the leather knots together behind their back required some unique positions. The hobgoblin just stood there staring while Trym struggled, picking its sharp teeth with a comb it had picked up from the dresser.

When Trym was finally done, the hobgoblin threw the comb to the floor and turned, grunting, “Come halfing,” as it walked towards the door. It led them out into one of the castle’s many interior courtyards. Trym was already panting by the time they reached it.

Spinning around with surprising speed, the stout hobgoblin turned around and smacked Trym’s calf with the flat side of a wooden sword it had pulled out of nowhere. Trym fell hard onto their side smacking their elbow into the hard stone ground. The hobgoblin cackled and tossed another sword towards Trym, whacking them in the stomach.

“Take the sword halfing. I have other things to do today.”  
Trym had gotten used to obediently following orders since being introduced to the castle proper and slowly got to their feet with the sword in hand. Compared to the dummy swords they had trained with before in the military, this one resembled a true Faerie sword with all of its artful details carved into the wood and polished to an almost metallic shine.

Without warning, Trym was whacked on the other leg, this time with the sword's edge, sending them to the ground again. The hobgoblin laughed again, echoed by the high pitched laugh of Titania who Trym spotted watching from a veranda above them. She smiled and leaned back out of sight to return to whatever business she had.

The hobgoblin was savage, giving Trym no time to react and giving a stern kick to the stomach each time Trym fell down. It didn’t seem like it was trying to teach them anything as it was just trying to break a rib. 

It wasn’t even midday when Trym fell and didn’t get back up. The hobgoblin gave them another quick kick to the gut but in response Trym just grunted and curled up. It sighed and picked up Trym’s sword from the ground, returning both to the depths of its coat. Trym’s troop of nymphs swooped in from nowhere and began to gently lift a near-unconscious Trym to their feet. They were dragged up to the dining hall where Titania was sitting down for lunch. Her courtiers were absent and she was alone except for the servers and her pixies. The nymphs gently sat Trym down in their chair next to her and retreated to the sides of the room still attentively watching over Trym. Another bowl of porridge was placed in front of Trym who was too sore to even raise their arms. They just sat slumped over with their bloody cuts and bruises staring at the bowl. Titania’s hand came down and began to spoon porridge up to Trym’s face. Surprised as they were, Trym accepted the spoonfuls without a word as Titania began to speak.

“I hope you had a productive first encounter with Borrig. In case it was unclear, he’s meant to help you train. I’ve decided on the position you’ll hold in my court. Forgive me for the wait but it is a bit unprecedented to have someone like you to have any place among us except as entertainment. Not that you aren’t here for entertainment.” She laughed to herself and then continued. “I do sincerely hope that you’ve learned how to be respectful during your time alone otherwise I don’t know how well you will be suited to be the Queen’s Knight.”

The spoon feeding stopped but Trym kept their eyes fixed on the bowl in front of them.

“And I do hope that you understand what would follow were you to fail to do what is expected of you. I’m sure I don’t need to elaborate but just to make things clear, my dear Amadán, I have a very large breadth of punishments available to me, ranging in cruelty. Do not underestimate the creativity of Faeries.” She resumed feeding the bruised and bloodied Trym.

“Your magic will be returned to you shortly as per our pact. It was only suspended when you neglected to make good on your promises. But from now on I expect you to train with Borrig so that you may join me in court. You’ve not spoken once, my pet, is there anything you would like to say? And look at me when you speak to me.” She paused her feeding again.

Trym painfully lifted their head to look at Titania. She was as beautiful as ever.

“No, my Queen. Thank you for finding me a teacher.”

“Of course," she said with a smile.

She removed her hands and Trym could hear her faint steps cross the room until they were gone.

The nymphs rushed back to their side and spoon fed Trym the rest of the porridge, moving on to coax them to eat several other soft and tasteless things that were brought out from the kitchens. Trym just mechanically swallowed whatever was put in their mouth. Afterwards, the nymphs carried them to the baths to gently wash the dirt out of their cuts, dressed them, and then carried them back outside to painfully parade around the gardens.

As different as faeries were they understood the mortal psyche expertly. Trym knew they would let this brute, Borrig, beat them into the ground everyday until Titania was satisfied because what else was there to do? Going through the motions until something happened or until she was done with them.


	5. Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to multiclass, folks. Trym gains a level in Fighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violence and gore.

Day after day, Trym let themselves be bullied by Borrig who found joy in seeing how fast he could bring Trym to unconsciousness, laughing as their body was dragged away by the nymphs.

A time finally came when Trym was able to stay standing until the sun had finally reached noon; then a time when Borrig finally got bored and let them go for the day; and then the time when Trym actually landed a hit. That was the day Borrig amusement turned to fury and actually succeeded in breaking their arm, watching as the nymphs ran over to Trym who was screaming in pain at their shattered bone. 

When Trym was able to return to the courtyard, the wooden swords had been replaced by the real things.

Borrig held a graceful rapier with a broadsword laid on the stone in front of him. Trym’s arm, fully healed, was still barely able to lift it. They needed both hands to hold it and could only keep the sword an inch above the ground.

“The queen has picked this for your weapon. I appreciate her humor,” Borrig said with a chuckle. Trym scowled at him. The sword was at least a couple inches longer than Trym was tall.

As he did every day, Boring started training without a word, leaving Trym to defend his merciless attacks. He knew just how lightly to jab his rapier to give Trym painful pricks without drawing blood whereas Trym could barely move their blade. They resorted to resting the point of the sword on the ground and using a combination of dragging and pivoting to position the sword vertically between themself and Borrig. He acknowledged Trym's creative and unorthodox use of a broadsword by kicking the stationary sword out from under them, letting them fall to the ground and savagely piercing the hand that shot out when they broke their fall.

Yelling over Trym’s shrieking, Borrig growled, “Pick up that sword off of the ground or I’ll skewer your stomach.”

He removed the sword from Trym’s hand and let the nymphs hurry over to quickly treat and bandage the wound. He gave them several minutes before shooing them away and returning his attention to Trym.

Despite having resolved to be obedient to Titania, Trym hadn’t been able to stop themself from developing a true hatred for Borrig and resolved to pay him back one day. But even with the anger fueling them, with only one hand able to hold the hilt, Trym quickly developed a web of cuts across their body, ranging from shallow to skin deep. 

Trym returned the next day covered in bandages. The nymphs had spent the afternoon plastering them in their various strong scented medicinal pastes. And Trym had spent the night leafing through their warlock’s grimoire which had appeared on the nightstand a couple weeks before.

Before Borrig had the chance to attack, Trym cast the sign for a spell and the sword flew into the air, suddenly becoming weightless. Without the burden of its weight, Trym brought the sword level to block Borrig’s first blow and then brought it down to smack him in the side with the sword's flat side. Surprised, Borrig stumbled back before growling and baring his yellowed teeth at Trym. He shot to the side to come up on Trym's left, aiming for a jab to their stomach, but Trym, no longer encumbered by the ridiculous weight of the broadsword rolled forward and raised the sword just off the ground to trip him. Borrig hopped up slightly to land on the flat of the sword, pinning it to the ground before whipping his rapier to smack Trym across the face with it. Letting go of their sword still trapped underneath Borrig’s weight, Trym hopped back and felt the steaming blood dripping down their cheek.

Borrig laughed and lunged again but when he thrust forward to give Trym a painful jab in the leg, his sword connected with nothing and he stumbled through the space Trym had been. From behind him, a foot made contact with his back and he fell to the ground managing to roll to the side before the broadsword slammed on the stone beside him. Above him was Trym, grey eyes glowing white and the sword effortlessly held in one hand. Trym knelt and reached their other hand down to Borrig’s face. Borrig suddenly found that he was unable to move. As Trym made contact, Borrig’s skin began to melt and turn black, what was left of his face contorting in pain. Meanwhile, the cut on Trym’s face began to slowly stitch itself back together. Even after Trym was healed, they kept their hand firmly in place, necrotizing an imprint of their hand into Borrig’s face until they felt the sharp pain of their arm bands tightening. Looking up, Trym saw Titania smiling down from her balcony.

She shouted down, “Please don’t kill my Captain of the Guard unless you wish to replace him.”

Trym paused for a moment considering before pulling away and allowing the armbands to loosen and Borrig to stop silently crying out in pain. Trym released the paralyzing spell on him and Borrig’s screaming could suddenly be heard across the castle as he rolled on the ground clutching his face in his hands. Throwing their sword to the ground, Trym walked out of the courtyard through their crowd of nymphs cautiously following behind them.

\---

“It seems I’ll have to find you another instructor now, Amadán.” Titania was delicately cutting up some small roasted animal on her plate. Trym had gotten used to the unfamiliar flora and fauna that were served at meals. 

Titania’s annoyance was filling the room and even the courtiers kept their conversations muted. Trym tried as quietly as they could to cough up the small animal bone that had gotten lodged in their throat.

“My Queen,” Trym coughed. “Borrig served me well in assisting with my recovery…” 

Trym thought very carefully.

“But I think my training would be better served by learning under one of your court’s magicians. A sword can only help me to protect you so much, but magic…” The look they got from Titania told them to stop immediately.

“I would advise you to be quiet and finish your meal quickly. Today you demonstrated that you still cannot act as expected, as you have mutilated your teacher. Not only that, but you undermined the point of your training by using magic in a melee fight. And while he did damage your delicate little face...” She took another bite of whatever animal was on her plate.

“It appears that you, little Amadán, may need more time to yourself to correct your behaviour,” she said looking calmly down at Trym.

The memories of loneliness and terror rushed back all at once at the thought of going back to the room.

Trym turned around suddenly at the sounds of the now audible thundering steps of a troll summoned from down the hallway. Panicked, Trym turned back to Titania.

“Please my Queen!” They could hear the troll coming closer. “Please what can I do to prove myself to you, my Queen?”

Titania silently ate while the courtiers rustled with excitement.

Too panicked to think straight, Trym started to say whatever they thought might satisfy her.

“I’ll help Borrig to recover! I’ll… I’ll relinquish my grimoire! I’ll give up all magic and devote myself to the broadsword, I promise, my Queen!”

Titania swallowed and looked down at Trym with a gentle look. “I do believe that you are being sincere in all of the vows. But while I value your sincerity…” She reached out a hand to cup Trym’s cheek. “You still haven't learned your lesson.” She smiled as Trym was lifted out of their seat, writhing in the troll's firm grasp and waving a wooden fork around wildly making contact with nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trym finally remembers they're a warlock :)


	6. Alone Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trym gets put in time-out again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh, drugs and sex...

The room that Trym was returned to had changed. The mossy floor and walls had rotted and had turned spongy and slick. Large stinking flowers that dripped a rotting nectar onto the ground had grown from the moss. The must and pollen swirled together making the air in the room thick, and their head and eyelids heavy. As the wall closed behind them, Trym swayed. They leaned against the wall only for their legs to give out below them and slide down to the floor. Giving into the vapour filling the room, Trym laid down, sinking into a shallow puddle of foul water. Their entire body felt like a stone and with their eyes closed, Trym could see wispy images manufactured by whatever drug was in the air working itself into their mind, pushing any pleasant memories down to put itself in the forefront.

The cold water was replaced by the warm touch of skin. Trym looked up to see Titania looming over them. She was cradling them, Trym shrunk down so as to fit in the palm of her hand.

Her cupped hand tipped and Trym fell, landing hard on cobblestone. Their body was broken and twisted, unable to move but faced to see Borrig standing there smiling viciously, face unscathed. He began relentlessly lashing them with his thin sword, Titania’s court, giggling and cackling, crowded on balconies that hung from walls surrounding them. When the pain and quiet anger had all but bubbled over, Titania reached down to scoop Trym’s fragile body off of the ground, lifting them up to her gentle kisses and coos as their body reconstructing itself with each soft touch of her lips. Abruptly, they fell again, bones shattered and immobile in front of Borrig. The repetitions blurred together in Trym’s mind as their feverish unconscious body squirmed and splashed in the puddle now mixed with their sweat.

At some point, the haze began to lift and Trym felt themself being gently lifted from the ground. Their head hung backwards as they were carried out and through the hallways and behind them they could see the dream-like projections of the laughing courtiers behind them. Trym’s body was still limp when they entered Titania’s chamber and they were placed on the cushions of the queen’s bed. Whatever had been in that room had almost worn off now yet Trym’s body still felt weak. They strained as they tried to lift their head up off the bed.

“Don’t act so dramatic, little Amadán, you were only there for a couple of days. You can’t possibly be that weak already, you're my sturdy little halfling.” The bed sank as Titania sat down. She was wearing another one of her sheer gowns, silken gossamer studded with dew drop diamonds. Her dress hid nothing.

“I’d like to see how those few days changed you,” Titania said as she lifted her legs onto the bed. Trym tested the limits of their movements again to sit up as straight as they could against the collapsing wall of pillows behind them. Titania edged closed, making Trym’s skin crawl.

“I made that dream just for you, my pet. How did you like it?” She reclined on the bed next to where Trym sat. “Did it make you finally realize just how fragile you are?” Trym’s size dwarfed Titania whose breasts were level with their face. Trym stared straight ahead as Titania’s hand reached around their shoulder to cup their head in her hand and draw them down to lay on her chest. The feeling brought them back to the dream, bringing forth a confusing mix of gratitude and contempt towards her.

“I promised to make you stronger, didn’t I? And would I ever lie to you, sweet Amadán?”

“We fae know how your mortal minds work, to an extent. There is always some finetuning that needs to be done but I think I’ve gotten you to where you need to be my little Amadán Dathuil. Nothing drives you, little one. But if you just let go and give yourself to me, you will have all the purpose you’ll ever need.” She took Trym’s face in her hands to face them up towards her. 

“Let us renew our promise. Devote yourself entirely to me, your body and spirit, every action you take, and I promise to give you the strength that you wish for so much. I will give your life the purpose it lacks, that you’ve never been able to find on your own.”

Trym looked up into Titania’s bright green eyes and saw, whether imagined or not, a kindness there. Her hand felt so warm against their sickly cool cheek. Unexpectedly, Trym put their hand over Titania’s, leaning into her touch. Slowly, they nodded. Titania smiled warmly.

“I need you to say aloud, Amadán.” She shifted her hand to the nape of their neck.

“Yes, my Queen. I’m yours.” Trym felt a warmth building in their stomach as Titania leaned down.  
She placed her lips on Trym, gently pushing them down to lay on the cushions behind them. Tired and alone, Trym obeyed.


	7. A Demonstration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trym settles in a routine in the castle and gets a nicer teacher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bondage.

Trym was moved to a smaller room in Titania’s wing, technically a converted dressing room, but it served Trym’s needs well enough. Those needs being met by the door adjoining their room to the queen’s apartment. Every other night, Trym would hear a soft knock at the door and open it to see one of the queen’s pixies waiting expectantly. They would find Titania in her bedroom. Whether they were exhausted from training or not, Trym would play along. The things she made them do were sometimes unusual and generally, they weren’t pleasant on Trym’s end.

During the day, Trym’s duties were more official. Borrig had been replaced by another competent member of Titania’s guard, Fennig, another hobgoblin but younger. While the training was hard, Fennig never abused Trym as sadistically as Borrig had. Titania never brought it up, but Trym got the sense that Borrig had been removed from the castle entirely.

The broadsword became easier to handle as Trym’s strength grew. The queen had been firm on her wish to keep magic separate from their training so eventually Trym graduated on to a wider array of weapons, learning to effectively defend and attack with most of what the armoury had to offer.

The nymphs began dutifully teaching Trym Sylvan in the hours between training, taking the time to perfect their Common speech when needed. A small chest of Fae books appeared in their room one day, a gift from Titania, not that Trym had much time to read or any desire to.

Trym found the new routines and procedures more automatic as time went on. They were able to enjoy their training with Fennig even though they very rarely enjoyed their time with Titania. The courtiers never stopped their quiet whispers and high pitched giggles as Trym walked past them in the halls or at meals with the Queen.

Life continued. 

Trym trained and learned during the day and Titania brought them to her bedroom at night. Strangely, Trym felt a morbid satisfaction in knowing that they made Titania happy, or at least entertained her. It didn’t outweigh their contempt for her but it made things easier.

The day came when Titania felt that Trym was finally ready to be brought to court. 

The day before, Trym and Fennig had performed a demonstration of Trym’s new competence with the broadsword. Surrounded by her courtiers, the Queen watched as Trym brought Fennig down with each weapon that was brought out. Trym knew that Fennig was going easy on them, but she didn’t need to know that. She smiled in delight as Trym delicately handled a rapier to pierce where Fennig’s heart would have been had he not been wearing thick armor. At the sound of her light applause, Trym decided to show off for her, pivoting around the much larger Fennig and flicking the sword to cut through the straps of his armor, letting the breastplate fall to the ground. The distraction allowed Trym to kick his leg out so that Fennig fell back to hit the cobblestone. Dramatically Trym flourished the sword before letting the point fall to rest just above his heart, snagging the fabric of his shirt.

Titania clapped again before settling back down into her seat.

“It seems you would serve as a better guard than Fennig, Amadán. Why stop there, his life laid out before you. Take it.” She said playfully.

Looking down at Fennig, Trym thought quickly. They knew how seriously the queen’s whims ought to be treated.

“As pitiful as he was as a guard, he was an excellent instructor. Perhaps his talents would be more appreciated as head guard to the kennels.” Fennig had been one of the kinder Fae in the palace and they had to at least try to protect him. Putting on a show for her might get her in a good enough mood to concede.

Trym laughed down at Fennig, “All of your training just to pledge loyalty to a bunch of dogs and bitches.” Trym held their breath as Titania considered.

“Yes…” she said slowly. “I like that. It’s fitting.” The quiet laugher of her courtiers started up behind her.

Trym looked back down at Fennig and pushed the tip of the sword into his chest. “Howl for your Queen, dog.” They felt their stomach curl as they said it. Fennig, fully aware of the situation, gave the onlookers a pitiful howl before Trym withdrew their sword, leaving him to gather up his breastplate from the ground and silently leave.

Titania called Trym to her room later that night. Afterward, they lay together against the cushions on her bed, Titania absentmindedly playing with Trym’s curls. Quietly she began to speak.

“You were almost clever today, Amadán. I had intended to show you that cockiness has its consequences but,” The queen reached for a lit candle by the bed and giggled as her halfing squirmed under the molton drips. “Watching you humiliate him like that was much more fun.”

“You've done very well thus far. Continue to behave yourself. I hope I won’t regret bringing you to court in the morning.” She went back to playing with their hair. When she got up to go to the washroom, a servant came over to remove the rope and gag from the immobilized Trym propped up by pillows. They spent the rest of the night peeling off the little bits of wax.


	8. Day in Court

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trym returns to the Seelie Court for a party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drinks, drugs, and hypnotic enchantment.

The army of nymphs returned that morning to wake Trym. They busily carried them to a washtub, scrubbing away the remaining pieces of wax Trym hadn’t been able to reach and dousing them in perfumes and scents before lifting them out of the bath and onto a stool. There many hands trimmed away Trym’s curls to a short crop, reminiscent of their military days. Trym convinced the nymphs to let them dress themself but that victory was ruined when they noticed the buttons were done up wrong, descending upon them to correct Trym’s mistakes. In the end, Trym left the room in tight fitting pants and doublet and smelling like a garden.

Entering the dining hall for breakfast, the courtiers were absent. As Trym sat down to a plated assortment of Faerie Realm fruits, an attendant rushed forward and knelt to present them with a dark wooden box.

“A gift for my Amadán Dathúil,” said Titania sweetly.

Opening the box, Trym pulled out a heavy circlet. Its weight made it clear this was not a decorative piece, but aesthetically crafted armor, with two blunted horns designed to protect the front of the head from downward blows. There was also something unfamiliar about the material.

“Iron,” Titania answered, reading Trym’s confusion. “A sign of my confidence in your loyalty to me. I know you would sooner die than let any harm come to me.”  
Iron was something not found in the Faerie Realm. The metal would burn a faerie’s skin as if it had just been pulled from the fire but in Trym’s hands it was just cold and heavy. They suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

“My queen this around is dangerous to have around...”

“Put it on,” she demanded. Trym reluctantly put the circlet on. It fit snugly, verging on tight.

But the design was practical. Because of Trym’s halfling height, they had learned in training how often their opponent would swing down towards their head. The crown would defend against attacks from above, not that Trym could imagine they would see much combat, standing at Titania’s side in court.

Titania smiled and returned to her food.

“I don’t want anyone in this castle laying a hand on you except me.”

The nymphs returned when the two had finished eating, circling around Trym as they took their last bite. “I’ll see you in court, little Amadán.” 

When they returned to their room, the nymphs hovered around Trym hesitantly. Realizing quickly, Trym removed the circlet and set it down on the bed. As soon as they did they the nymphs began adorning Trym with plates of armor that seemed more decorative than functional, which they strapped on over the tight fitting doublet.  
The broadsword was leaning against a chair. The nymphs tried strapping it to their belt but it ended up dragging on the floor. They ended up fashioning a strap for the sword to be strapped across Trym’s back. It wouldn’t be as easy to draw but at least it wouldn’t gouge a path in the moss carpets as they walked. Trym put the iron circlet on by themself, feeling the weight of the metal settle on their skull.

A light knocking came from the door and one of Titania’s pixie attendants was buzzing around outside. It lit up when Trym came through the door and flitted around them, inspecting their attire.

When it was satisfied, it started to quickly move down the hallway, occasionally slowing for Trym to catch up. The nymphs watched proudly from the doorway as the pixie led their ward away.

They made their way out of Titania’s wing and into the main section of the castle but soon, the hallways became unfamiliar. Trym had essentially been given free range of the palace, with the exception of Titania’s apartments. They’d even found their way into the kitchen a couple times, where unsightly goblins prepared the food, and pots and pans seemingly moved on their own, but upon further inspection had just been the work of small, beetle-winged pixies. But somehow they’d never taken any of these turns.

The gentle music became louder as they made their way down the halls and the smell of flowers and wine stronger. Finally, they turned a corner to enter the Queen’s Court.

It was the same cathedral that Trym had been dropped into when they first entered this realm. But, unlike before, instead of all eyes being on them, the courtiers filling the room were all preoccupied, talking amongst each other and drinking. They weren’t limited to congregating on the ground but also hovered in clusters in the air and perched on branches high above. The music didn’t seem to come from any bandstand but came from every direction, filling the room with an upbeat accompaniment.

Feeling a slight tug on their clothing, Trym remembered the pixie leading them, who was trying to regain their attention. Slowly Trym followed their guide through the room, winding around groups of Fae and tables of food and drink. Reaching Titania’s dias at the end of the room, Trym started to recognize the familiar faces of the courtiers who were present at almost every meal. Their guide led them to where Titania lay on her bed of flowers, leaving Trym at the steps leading up to her as it flew up to join the cluster of pixies circling Titania.

Titania noticed Trym quietly waiting and swung her legs down from the bed. Sitting gracefully on the edge of her podium, she gestured for Trym to walk up the steps and join her. Several courtiers who had been talking with her passed Trym on the steps and whispered several choice words that Trym knew were considered quite rude in Sylvan.

As they approached her, she reached down to pet their head, only to pull back noticing the crown. She laughed to herself. “I must admit, the other reason I gave you that band was to keep myself from these overly affectionate gestures while we’re in court. The same reason why I’ve given you the title of Queen’s Knight and not the Royal Concubine.” She laughed again at her own little joke. 

“I’ll want you by my side later on but for now, enjoy your new life in court. I recommend you stay away from the drinks, they’re not formulated for creatures of your constitution.” Trym noticed the blush on the queen’s cheeks from whatever was being served below.

Trym, not sure how they should be standing, asked, “Are you celebrating anything in particular, my Queen?”

She giggled drunkenly and swung her legs back up to recline on her stomach facing Trym. “I just felt like some fun, that’s reason enough.” Another courtier was walking up the steps drawing Titania’s attention away and Trym took the opportunity to make their way back down to the main floor.

Trym wandered around, avoiding being pulled into any conversation by loitering near the tables of food. The bowls of whatever the Fae were drinking, when they leant over to inspect it, smelled like a combination of pitch and lilies, with the alcoholic smell of a strong vodka burning their nose. 

Near to where Trym was standing was a circle of faeries who had delicate mushrooms growing up out of their head like hair. Their quiet chatter had turned into raucous laughter and Trym curiously made their way over. Their circle opened up for Trym to look in on what had sent them into an uproar. 

In front of them was a tiefling, dancing in the corral the circle of Fae had created. The look on his face was pained but drawn into a tight smile. His cheeks were crusted with the trails of tears. 

Trym stood there frozen in shock, unsure of what to do as the tiefling made eye contact with them and then looked down at the ground. Trym’s gaze shifted downward to see a human woman convulsing on the floor, her legs kicking as her mouth foamed up and her eyes rolled back. While she was wearing formal faerie clothes, she was barefoot. The skin on the soles of her feet had peeled back to expose the bare flesh, in some parts pieces of bone. Horrified and confused, Trym couldn’t help but stand there as the tiefling continued his solo waltz, tripping on the body of his fallen partner only to stumble and keep dancing. The laughter of the faeries surrounding them was deafening. One of them knelt down to prod the girl on the floor who had stopped moving. Denouncing her dead, the faerie motioned for an attendant to drag her out of the circle. When she was gone, another attendant stepped through the circle, bringing forward another girl who was slowing spinning en pointe. Her slippers were still intact but Trym could already see where the seams of her shoes were slowly unraveling.

The faerie who had had the previous dancer removed bent down to speak to Trym. “The human ones are so delicate, especially the women. I feel like watching a sturdier species like those demon spawn tieflings is so much more rewarding when they finally fall, wouldn’t you agree.” Trym could smell the putrid alcohol on her breath and it made them gag. Dizzily, they stepped away from the dancers and out of the circle, leaving the ballerina to spin endlessly and the waltzer to continue on alone.

Stumbling through the crowds, Trym began to notice more and more dancers at different stages of decline performing for the courtiers. Another Fae caught them staring and commented on the girl in front of him. “Isn’t this one extroindinary?” What was left of her feet was bandaged tightly and the blood was soaking through to the floor. “The nymphs had to amputate most of her toes but they’ve been able to keep her going. This is the eleventh time she’s been brought to court, I’ll bet you she falls tonight!”

The girl’s eyes were glassy and her smile relaxed. She’d probably been forced to take so many stimulants her mind was entirely gone. Trym doubted she could even feel the pain anymore and used that as an excuse to silently walk away, leaving her there.  
Their wandering continued until they felt a gentle squeeze from the bands on their arms, signalling that Titania wanted them to return. Trym tried to forget the people they’d seen down there suffering and force out a polite smile as they made their way up the steps to Titania’s side. Despite their efforts to hide it, she saw through immediately.

Smiling, Titania made a signal to an attendant down below them. As she leaned forward, Trym could smell the noxious fumes of whatever she had been drinking.

“You’re not feeling nostalgic for your old life, are you dear? It would hurt me so much if you were, but I would understand. Let me help you, my love.” The Queen gestured and from behind them came an attendant, followed by another one of the dancers, a small halfling girl swaying provocatively. Her feet were bare but still intact and dopey smile showed that she’s been drugged. Titania reached out and ran her fingers through the girl’s mousy brown hair.

“This one hasn’t been here long but I would enjoy her while she lasts. Most don’t survive in this realm as long as you have.” She lightly pushed the girl towards Trym who stumbled and continued dancing. She danced for no one in particular, moving her hips for an unseen audience, her glassy eyes staring at nothing.

As the girl absentmindedly danced on a collision course with Trym, they backed up to the podium to clear her path. Titania reached out again, guiding her back.

“Don’t pretend you only have eyes for me, Amadán. Does she not remind you of her? Your long dead beloved?” She reached out and began to comb the girls hair through her fingers.

Trym looked at the girl honestly, ignoring the thrusting of her hips. If they tried, they could pull up a faint image of what Netta might have looked like but it was hazy. With what memories were left of her, Trym could probably have said that any halfling girl reminded them of her.

They decided to remain quiet, standing there uncomfortably as she rhythmically swayed before them.

“It’s not wise to refuse my gifts, Amadán. But let’s forget it, it’s a party!” Titania pushed the girl away into the arms of the attendant and a pixie lifted a goblet up to the Queen’s hand. She took a long drink and after a second of thought, brought the cup down to Trym’s lips who was still standing to attention before her. Having heard her warning, Trym accepted it and took a small sip. 

Whatever was in that cup burned like a hot coal and left a film of something bitter in their throat. The drink was oppressively floral yet after they had swallowed, Trym suddenly had an intense craving for more. Without thinking, they reached for the cup only for Titania to quickly raise it out of their reach.

Titania laughed as Trym coughed and choked on their suddenly incredibly dry throat. Once they had regained their senses, Titania said, “Some things in this realm are incredibly dangerous, remember that, Amadán.” She motioned for the halfling girl and, holding her head still, gave the girl a sip from her cup. Almost immediately she grabbed the cup from Titania’s hand and began to drink deeply. When the cup was empty, she threw it down and began to feverishly look around for another. The queen handed her a decanter which was snatched from her hand and the girl once again began to drink deeply. She poured the liquid down her throat, still chugging as it began to bubbled back out of her mouth as she choked on it. When the decanter was empty, she got down to her knees and began to slurp up the drink she had coughed up. The attendants who pulled her off the ground only had to deal with her struggling a couple seconds before she started violently coughing, clots of blood and mucus flying onto the floor as she hacked them up. She began to shiver, blood dripping from her mouth as she sagged forward, chest occasionally convulsing as it tried desperately to take in air.

“I’ll keep her around, just in case you change your mind, Amadán.” She sighed and leaned back on her podium. “I think this party had reached its natural end. This is as good a time as any.” An attendant hearing her words, scuttled down the steps, spreading the word to the guests and servers alike who began to silently make their way out of the court.

Titania stepped down from her podium to stand by Trym. Seeing the queen drunk was quite a sight especially considering how graceful she always seemed to move. Trym offered a hand as she unsteadily began to slowly walk down the steps and escorted the Queen across the room and around the loitering groups of courtiers. The dancers were being gathered together by the attendants, mechanically colliding into each other as they continued to dance. Trym knew there was nothing they could do to help them. They had all made their own mistakes and now they all had to pay the price for dealing with the Fae, just like Trym was now. They were in the exact same position as them.


	9. A Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think it's fair to say Trym didn't enjoy the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: Self-harm, drugs, nudity, and death ahead

Titania had let them return to their room, apparently too tired and drunk to ask them to join her in her apartments. The only thing Trym did before falling into bed was drop their sword to the floor, curling up in the sheets fully dressed to stare at the wall. There were times when Trym dreamed about being back in the room alone. In those nightmares, they could feel the cold wet touch of the mossy floor as they lay there while whatever had last horrified them played on a loop projected in front of them, night after night before their feelings numbed again and they could go to sleep without having to remember. Tonight, Trym knew the nightmares would start up again.

Getting up, Trym picked at random one of the books Titania had gifted them and began to read a fairy tale in common about a boy who had butchered his family in exchange for a gift promised to him by a witch. The story didn’t gloss over anything and the gorey details worked to keep Trym awake a little while longer. When the stories began to get dull and their eyes started to get heavy, Trym switched to a stiletto, another gift from Titania, studded with turquoise. The thin point of the knife effectively cut through the calluses on Trym’s fingers, providing a sharp but quick stimulus to stay awake.

Pin pricks of blood began to stain the sheets and soon Trym fell back to the last resort. After the last bout of these recurring nightmares, Trym had decided to raid the nymphs' pantry of medicines, swiping a small box of white powder they had seen several of the courtiers snorting out in the gardens. They figured whatever it was that sent winged fairies shooting wildly into the sky would work to keep a halfling awake. Portioning out a small mound of the stuff, Trym tried to inhale it through their nose. Instead of taking it in through their nose, they sneezed, shooting it back out into a cloud which they then began to choke and cough on, making their lungs burn. But the buzz kicked in regardless and Trym could feel their eardrums start to ring while they were still bent over coughing. Sitting up, they realized that their legs were tapping up and down uncontrollably. Pushing off the bed, they began to quickly pace until their feet began to feel uncomfortably prickly and they had to sit down again, picking up the book to fan through the pages. 

A sudden knocking at the door made Trym rocket up off the bed again. It was late, too late for Titania to be calling on them, but when they opened the door it was one of her attendants who raised her eyebrows when she saw them, fully dressed and probably dusted in the drug.

“You should probably change, the Queen wants you,” she said quietly. She waited in the doorway quietly as Trym anxiously brushed themself off and stripped, pulling on a loose tunic and pants that were lying on the floor.

As they walked through the Queen’s apartment, Tryms eye’s kept flitting around, unable to focus on anything for more than half a second. Walking into the bedroom, Trym's leg wouldn’t stop shaking, causing them to bounce in place as they waited for Titania to address them.

“Oh my! Someone is enjoying themself!” She crawled across the bed, laughing. “Come, let me you look at you, silly Amadán.” Jittering, Trym walked over to stand at the edge of the bed before her.

“Hah! Your eye’s are about the size of the moon, my dear, I can only imagine what you took. Oh this will make tonight so much more fun, I should have thought of giving you something like this sooner!” She kneeled on the bed holding their head in her hands and then reached down to pull their shirt off and drop their pants, leaving Trym to stand there butt naked, shivering and covered in goosebumps and a thin layer of cold sweat. She dragged them into bed with her, pulling them backwards into her embrace. 

She leaned down to whisper in their ear, “I do hope you’re able to remember all of this in the morning, it is meant to be a lesson for rejecting my gift earlier.” 

The bed sagged and Trym looked up to see the halfling girl from the party, also naked, sitting dazed at the edge of the bed. There was still blood crusted in the corners of her mouth from before. 

Titania reached behind her and pulled a small silver vial from beneath a pillow, taking a small sip herself before holding it out to the girl. “None for you,” she whispered to Trym. Without looking down, the girl took the vial and in one motion emptied it into her mouth, her eyes fluttering as she suddenly sat up straight. Her pupils contracted and with a sudden awareness, focused on the room around her before looking down to make eye contact with Trym who was still shivering uncontrollably in Titania’s arms.

Titania reached up to grab her arm, pulling her down to lie with them. She slowly nestled in until she was laying against Trym. Titania reached around to direct Tryms arms to wrap themselves around the girl. 

They laid in bed, the three of them, stacked together, Titania surrounding both halflings in her embrace. Gradually Trym began to come down from the high and the stimulus from the two bodies pressed up against theirs was no longer as overwhelming. It was odd, as their hands stopped shaking and came to rest on the chest of the girl in front of them, they could feel a chill on her skin. They moved their hand to rest on her stomach and after a moment realized her stomach wasn’t moving with every breath and that she wasn’t breathing at all.

Trym snatched their hand away from the cold corpse in front of them but Titania reached back to grab their arm again, forcing their hand to rest on the girl's cold breast. She nuzzled in closer, resting her chin by Trym’s neck, sandwiching them between her warm body and the cooling corpse.

She whispered, tickling their ear with her breath, “I warned you she wouldn’t last here very long, you missed your chance to enjoy her. Her heart gave out faster than I thought it would, shame.” She let go of her firm grip on Trym’s arm allowing them to retract their hand again. Titania rolled over, releasing Trym from her embrace as she pulled her dense comforter over herself.

“You can go now,” she said quietly.

Trym didn’t move for a moment, too scared to try and make their way over the corpse sleeping silently in front of them.

“Now, love. I’m drunk and tired and I want to sleep.” Trym slowly got up, trying not to look the girl in the eyes as they scrambled over her and off the bed, reaching down to pick up their clothes from the floor and holding them close to their chest as they walked naked and cold back to their room. 

The nightmares were so bad this time, the nymphs had to return the next night to watch over Trym to keep them from using more painful methods to stay awake, and to hold them down when they woke up screaming and shaking.


	10. Hunting Hounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Titania decides that today is a good day for a hunt. More Irish Gaelic/Sylvan but it's explained within the chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of gore.

“How about we have some fun today, love?” Titania was lounging in bed as Trym pulled their clothes on. It had been one of those rare nights where she had asked Trym to stay after she had finished, falling asleep holding them tightly. It hadn’t been the most restful sleep for Trym, being trapped in the queen's arms, and they had hoped to be able to take a nap before any more of her activities.

Trym turned and smiled, buckling their pants, hoping she wouldn’t tell them to pull them down again. “Of course, my Queen. What did you have in mind?” 

Most of their days were spent living mundane castle life. Sometimes lords and ladies from the outer provinces of the realm would come to court to pay respects to Titania and Trym would stand beside her, a curiosity for them to ogle at.

So far, Trym had only had to draw their sword once, on a faerie baron who had mistakenly questioned the Queen’s order to raise the tithe on his land. She had looked down at Trym as the duke stammered making his apologies. It was a simple command she gave but I still took Trym a second to comprehend before drawing the broad sword from its scabbard on their back and moving towards the baron. He stumbled back, almost falling off the edge of the stair as Trym approached and dutifully swung their sword, hacking through his neck and letting his head roll down the steps to rest of the feet of the remaining lords and ladies waiting to address the queen. 

“I don’t think you’ve ventured outside the castle yet, have you? I feel like today is a good day for a hunt!” Despite their exhaustion, Trym felt a rush of excitement. All this time they had imagined the Fae Wilds to be this dense jungle filled with magical Fae beasts and man eating plants because they had nothing else to go off of.

Titania slipped out of bed and wrapped herself in a gossamer gown. “I’ll have someone bring you something to wear,” she said before opening the door to let her swarm of pixie attendants enter. They began to flit in and out of her dressing room, sizing up the queen as they tried to unanimously decide on what she would wear. As they lifted the gown from her shoulders, Trym turned to go, sliding into a wrinkled tunic. They stopped in their room to grab their iron circlet before venturing out into the hallways.

Despite it still being early, the hallways were already filled with commuting servants and attendants who moved to hug the walls as Trym walked through. They made their way to the kitchens where many of the staff were still having their hurried breakfasts and swiped a hearty looking loaf that was still warm from a counter. It was harder to squeeze by in the narrow servant's passages that snaked around to every room in the castle but Trym managed, nimbly ducking under the balanced serving trays and trying not to be too much of a nuisance.

Trym exited the castle highway into a courtyard near the borders of the castle. This one was at ground level and wild vines crept over and into the square forming dense prickly bushes. If the Queen ever came down here, she would probably have a gardener executed for their neglect. In the corner stood a well-made but badly maintained stone building, wide and flat and only one story with a single entrance. Before the door stood Fennig.

He was leaning with his back against the wall, pole spear propped up against a pillar. Walking closer, they noticed he was sound asleep. With a sharp whistle, Trym woke up every single dog in the kennel. Their sudden barking made Fennig jump and almost fall over. He leaned on the pole spear and then looked up at Trym with disdain.

He leaned back again and readjusted his leather helmet while Trym wordlessly tore the loaf of bread in half. The still steamy bread was full of nuts, dried fruits, and seeds, meant to serve as a complete meal for the always busy staff. They tossed him half and walked past him into the dim light of the kennel. Right next to the door was a small pen with a pile of hay, filled with a litter of juvenile blink dogs. Trym hopped over the barrier and fell into the hay, letting the puppies excitedly climb over them. Fennig ducked under the doorway to lean over the fence. He tore off a piece of bread and threw it to the mother of the pups who was calmly laying off to the side.

Trym leaned back into the hay, closing their eyes as a puppy tried to lick their face. Fennig spoke first over a mouthful of bread.

“What brings the royal concubine to my place of work this early in the morning. And with food no less.” Trym sat up as one of the pups tried to pull away their half of the bread but then reconsidered and threw it, watching the pups scramble over each other to get a bite. They would need to join Titania for breakfast soon anyway. They leaned back again into the hay.

“The Queen wants me to join her on a hunt. Anything pertinent I should know before heading out of the castle?” 

Trym wouldn’t call them friends. They didn’t really believe it was possible that a faerie and a halfling could ever have a meaningful connection besides the purely transactional, but they came to see Fennig often enough for them to at least be acquaintances. The way they made sense of it, Fennig felt like he needed to satisfy his debt to Trym by repaying them with information about the Faerie Realm, along with a level of basic human decency which was a lot to ask from a faerie. So far, he was the only Fae who would talk to them as if they were anything more than the queen’s plaything, so once in a while Trym would come by, sometimes with an offering of food, for advice, company, or even just to relax with the hounds in the kennel. 

Seeing their relationship as transactional, Trym was realizing, must be rubbing off on them from living with the Fae for so long. It was worrying but unavoidable. The only people they ever came in contact were the enchanted and intoxicated people put on display at the court festivities and they didn’t provide much in the way of conversation.

It was Fennig who had explained to Trym after their first night in the Queen’s court how individuals wound up in the Faerie Realm. There were the stupid ones like Trym who made deals they couldn’t keep. Then there were the unfortunate ones who were in the wrong place at the wrong time, unknowingly stepping into a faerie circle in the woods or even worse, wandering into the Goblin Market only to be ensnared by their tempting fruits and sold to the highest bidder. The lucky ones, depending how you looked at it, were sold whole to the palace for entertainment but most were sold in pieces by butchers. Fennig had offered no comfort, only the cold realities that Trym had wanted to hear. They had stood there dry heaving over a kennel stall as Fennig calmly described the many oddities one could find at this Goblin Market and the many uses Fae had for what the butchers sold. 

But even as the halfling curled up in the hay quietly crying in disgust, Fennig never sadistically laughed at their torment and whether he was just keeping his amusement to himself or not, Trym appreciated it. It was an exceptionally rare quality in the Fae they had discovered.

Fennig took a bite of his breakfast and took a second to think. Meanwhile, the puppies started fighting over Trym’s portion. Fennig cleared his throat.

“I can’t imagine the _soith ríoga_ would bring her pet anywhere too dangerous but even so, I suppose even mundane creatures pose a threat to you little folk.”  
Trym listened dutifully as Fennig described the many beasts that inhabited the Fae wilds, focusing on the ones inclined to eat them or large enough to squash them. More important were the warnings about the intelligent Fae who weren’t beholden to the queen.

“Not every hag and redcap respects Titania. I doubt you’ve been made aware of this but there are conflicting powers in this realm, namely the Unseelie court. We reside in the Seelie court while the Unseelie court is its exact inverse. The Queen and her court have an intense, albeit morbid, fascination with you mortals. The Unseelie court has a far lower regard for your brief lives. As horrid as you may find our forms of entertainment, you would enjoy theirs much less. For example, their king, Oberon, rather than pamper you as a Knight, would probably salivate as you hung from pegs on the wall, heart still beating and your stomach carved open as his servant using your intestines to weave him a new tapestry. The same goes for many of his subjects.” 

Trym was suddenly glad they had given their meal to the dogs.

“Lovely…” Trym said, mouth suddenly feeling particularly dry. 

“But again, I doubt the Queen would knowingly put you in harm's way. She enjoys you too much,” Fennig said, taking another large bite of bread.

They were interrupted by a demanding cough. In the doorway stood a well dressed attendant whose grassy hair was slicked back to a point. Fennig jumped up, tossing his food away and snatching up his spear to stand to attention. Trym, exhausted and genuinely enjoying their spot in the hay, pulled themself up and over the wall.

The intruder cleared his throat again. “The Queen is preparing for a hunt. Ready her hounds immediately.” Fennig turned and quickly began walking deeper into the kennel to wrangle the Queen’s prize blink dogs which was always a difficult task when you had animals that could teleport at will. Trym heard him mutter, “ _Asal dar teideal_...” as he walked away, another Sylvan insult translated to something like entitled asshole.

The attendant turned his gaze to Trym. He cracked a cruel smile at them and flamboyantly gestured for Trym to exit the kennel.

“The Queen doesn’t like when her toys get lost. Hurry back to her side now, little halfling.” The attendant knew his own importance in the castle and so did Trym, wordlessly ducking under his arm and quietly beginning to make his way back to the upper parts of the castle as the _asal dar teideal_ stayed behind, presumably to overbearingly supervise Fennig’s handling of the dogs.

Knowing they couldn’t meet Titania for a meal dressed in yesterday's clothes and smelling like hay and dog piss, Trym quickly put on what had been laid out on the bed for them, a combination of tight fitting green pants, a leaf leather vest, and high riding boots, before hurrying to the dining room.

The courtiers surrounding Titania at the dining table were dressed similarly in shades of green and brown. The Queen herself was wearing a long skirt with embroidery of ivy vines and a fitted leaf leather jacket.

As usual, a plate was placed before them as they sat down to eat, this morning a thin clear soup with dainty triangles of bread surrounding the bowl. Trym had only recently learned how to eat soup the proper way, after much trial and error.

Titania dabbed at her mouth with a napkin before speaking.

“And where did you run off to this morning so quickly?” Her tone was that of amusement not accusation so Trym relaxed.

“I went to check on the hounds to make sure they were in good condition for your hunt today.” She smiled knowingly.

“Just you and the dogs, hmm? Well, I’m pleased you're so excited for our outing today. I'm sure it will prove to be wildly entertaining.”


	11. A Day of Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunt begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No content warning I can think to include.

Each of Titania’s favourite courtiers saddled up to their steeds, creatures that were vaguely equine but with much sharper teeth and wolfish eyes. Some of their riders chose to loosen the reins as Trym weaved through their ranks, allowing their mounts to take savage nips at their clothes as they passed. Making it through in one piece, Trym took their place by Titania as they prepared to go. 

The Queens mount was brought out by one of her attendants and every other steed began to stomp nervously. Her’s was several sizes larger than the rest and pure white, with a smooth hairless head and neck. It stood proudly as a stool was placed and the queen pulled herself into the saddle. Her mare bent its delicate neck down and around to look Trym in the eye who was trying their best to remain calm and still. It took a moment to assess them before extending its neck like a cobra to snap its mouth shut just in front of Trym’s nose, sending them stumbling back. Trym didn’t know horses could smile, but it looked as if that one did, revealing it’s uniform bladed teeth as it craned it’s neck back up to face forward.

The Queen, several feet above Trym, tutted and said, “Oh dear, it seems Mordha isn’t as taken with you as I am. That’s a shame, I had hoped you would ride with me. But I would hate for you to lose and finger.”

From the wings of the courtyard came an attendant leading one of the hounds towards them. This dog was stockier than the rest, most of whom were bred to be lithe and fast, but it shared the distinct wispy tipped ears and long curling tail that all blink dogs had. The attendant was leading it by a set of reins attached to the dog's muzzle and there was a simple leather saddle strapped to it’s back. 

Trym had seen halflings riding all kinds of smaller animals; goats, pigs, dogs included. But riding one here almost seemed like an insult considering there were Fae around their size and they could see those among the group of courtiers on pony-sized equine mounts. But they knew better than to refuse the Queen’s gifts by now.

Trym took a hold of the reins and with the attendants' help, hopped up into the saddle. The dog seemed to have been trained as a mount and was calm for the entire process, only breaking to lick Trym’s hand when then tried to steady themself, the dogs slippery drool making the job that much harder. They awkwardly maneuvered the hound to stand by the Queen. Even with the added height of the hound, they still dwarfed in comparison to Titania’s Mordha and Trym still had to bend their neck upward to look at her.

“Thank you, my Queen. Does it have a name?” Trym shifted in place trying to get comfortable in the saddle.

“I’ve been told they call him Diarmaid,” she said looking down, amused with herself for the demeaning gift. Trym gave Diarmaid a scratch behind the ears and he returned the favor by covering their hand in drool again.

Before anyone stepped off the castle grounds, the hounds were off. Diarmaid took a step forward as the rest of the dogs were released but relaxed with a gentle tug at the reins. Atop each dog stood a small twig-like sprite who gripped the hounds' collars, yelling back to the party as the dogs changed direction. They were really only there as a precaution in case one wandered into a completely different plane of existence because the dogs were guided by no one, blinking in and out of reality as different scents caught their attention. Eventually, one dog took off running and howling and the rest followed, some blinking ahead as they picked up the scent as well. It was only then that the Queen’s procession began to move out of the palace’s front courtyard.

Several guards rode ahead of the Queen who was followed by her courtiers. Diarmaid quickly fell behind Mordha and to compensate, suddenly blinked forward, throwing Trym off guard and making their stomach do a spin. The hound teleported reflexively to keep pace, never waiting for Trym to spur him on or signal for it and the rider quickly became nauseous. Meanwhile, Titania sat side saddle as her mount flew over the ground, legs moving fluidly so that it’s body seemed to hang in the air.

The environment slowly became more and more wild as the party continued forward, the trees creating a solid canopy above them making it so dark, mounted attendants had to ride ahead with torches and the pixies trailing the Queen looked like fireflies. The ground turned from a packed dirt road to a tangled viney mess, which created an even worse ride for Trym as Diarmaid had to blink to avoid the larger clumps of undergrowth. The ride continued on until the riders up front began to slow down, circling around a stone tower that appeared in a clearing ahead. 

Mordha and the Queen came to a graceful stop while Trym was almost thrown forward as Diarmaid made one final blink and halted. As they dizzily dismounted, Trym saw that attendants were already beginning to lay out blankets and mats within a circle of lit torches surrounding the clearing. The tower that stood at the center of the clearing was held together by a scaffold which allowed it to pierce the tree canopy and let a few rays of sunlight in the dim below.

Titania joined them on the ground as her mount was led away to where the rest were being tied up.

“Welcome to the Fey Wilds, love,” she said with a flourish. “Come let’s sit.” She began to walk towards a partially constructed tent. Trym heard whining as Diarmaid tried to follow behind them but was caught by an attendant trying to take him away to be tethered near other proper steeds. Reluctantly, Trym left him to catch up to Titania. 

The Queen took a seat by a low table that had been assembled and gestured for Trym to join her.

“A little bit of history; this tower used to be a part of my summer palace. It’s the only part left standing after all this time but it still serves as a nice destination for a picnic or hunt.” Thinking back to Fennig’s explanation of the rivaling court, Trym decided to venture a guess as to what became of the rest of the castle.

“Was your palace destroyed by the Unseelie?” they asked hesitantly.

Titania narrowed her eyes. “I wonder what other bits of information you have been learning from those dogs in the kennels. Yes. A long time ago there were various conflicts but we have since settled into an agreement of sorts. Anything else you would like to ask?” Her tone implied that any remaining questions should be dropped immediately. 

“No, my Queen. I was simply astounded as to who would ever go against you, I just couldn’t imagine it.” Trym tried their best to smile disarmingly.

The queen matched their smile and then bent down to look them in the eye.

“My pet, remove that crown.” Her smile was sweet but her eyes were drilling into theirs. They placed the crown down on the table next to them and prepared for the worst. But she just sat back and patted her lap. Trym obliged, crawling towards her to sit on her neatly folded legs. Titania sighed and wrapped her arm around them and began to pet their head as she so often did.

“You’ve learned to play this game so well, Amadán. I’m so proud of how you’ve acclimated to your life here, it’s truly astounding how malleable mortals are.” She leaned back to get a look at them. “I wanted to treat you today, for being so good. A special hunt just for you, would you like that?” The question was rhetorical but Trym nodded.

“Good!” Trym got up as Titania shifted and stood to address the courtiers who were positioned around her tent lounging on their own mats.

“My friends, I think it’s time we release the game!” As she said that the guards began to move, making their way to stand between the guests and the tower. The two guards who had been positioned by the tower took their place by the large wooden doors, which Trym was just now realizing was much newer compared to the rest of the crumbling tower.

“These are for the rest of us. I have a special hunt for you,” Titania whispered, stepping behind Trym to rest her hands on their shoulders.

The doors were flung open. Immediately several Fae creatures dashed out, a brownie, another faerie dressed as a noble, and several in servant's garb. They all ran for the forest, steering clear of the guards who ignored them as long as they kept their distance. Then stepped out a scrawny human boy, followed by several more mortals who were similarly confused and scared, standing in a cluster as they exited the tower.

Trym could see their faces. They were alive and aware, not like the enchanted souls who danced at court. They had a genuine sense of fear, unhindered by drugs or magic. They felt sick realizing what they were here for, but it was also incredibly intoxicating to see genuine human emotion after so long.

An attendant stepped forward through the wall of guards towards the tower.

“You have been purchased by Queen Titania’s good grace and have been gifted your freedom. The price of that freedom is an afternoon of her Majesty’s entertainment, following which you will be allowed to freely live out the remainder of your lives in the Fae Wilds. The Queen has deemed this a fair trade, what say you, humans?” As he said it, Trym realized it was a trap. If they agreed to the terms, they would either die in the hunt or be eaten afterwards by something in the forests. Or they disagreed and as purchased property the Queen would slaughter them anyway. One by one, each person hesitantly walked up to the attendant and agreed to the deal. As each one was added to the list, Titania’s smile grew wider.

The attendant having shaken hands with all of them addressed them collectively again. “Having agreed to her deal, I would suggest you all make for the trees. In a short while the Queen and her courtiers will begin their hunt.” A new wave of terror struck the people standing there as they realized their mistake. Some began to run while others stood in shock. Ignoring the scared game, the courtiers turned back to talk amongst themselves and Titania sat back down as servants began to bring around trays of light snacks as they waited for their prey to get deep enough into the woods.

Trym was still watching the people still frozen in shock by the tower, partly out of horror that they wouldn’t be hunting animals but also relishing the sight of real conscious people. Even though her knight hadn’t sat down yet, Titania began to talk.

“Those Fae who were in such a hurry were thieves and traitors who we’ve been keeping for this very sort of occasion. I assume they already knew what their sentence would be, hence their haste. Unfortunately, we sometimes have to supplement with mortals. It’s a shame because they really can’t traverse the environment well and we need to wait longer for them to run in order to have a satisfying hunt. But come, I haven’t explained your task yet.” Trym regained their composure as they remembered who they were with and sat down next to the Queen ignoring the tiny tarts put out on the table before them.

“I’m sure you remember Borrig…” At the sound of his name, they were brought back to the torturous training he made them endure. Noticing their eyes widen with anger, Titania continued. “It seems you do unsurprisingly. Well, I’m sure you’ve noticed his absence in the palace. I sent him to work for me outside of the castle to keep the two of you from causing another scene but it seems he became dissatisfied with me as his Queen. He decided he didn’t fit in with my court and defected. Not that I’m surprised, he always had a mean streak towards your folk.” She smiled and Trym could feel their blood boiling as they remembered that sadistic bastard. 

“I don’t appreciate traitors as I’m sure you can understand and I thought I would give you the opportunity to bring me his head as a reward for your excellent service to me thus far. He’s living out in the woods as he prepares for his journey to the Unseelie lands but he must have forgotten these are still my forests.”

Trym could see Titania’s offer for what it was, it was another one of her tests of loyalty. She was probably hoping Trym would go out into the woods and help the humans get to safety so that she could punish them again. She wanted to gauge how much of the humanity she had managed to carve out of them, a litmus test for their soul.   
It looked like she'd gotten rid of most of it because the only thing Trym could think about was how good it would feel to relive Borrig’s body of his rotten smiling head. As Trym stood there, eyes blank as they played out a gruesome fantasy in their head, Titania reached down and gave them a kiss on the cheek.

“I really am so proud of how far you have come to be like us,” she said softly with something akin to actual pride in her voice. “Off you go now.”

Trym let a genuine smile show as they looked up at her and took her hand to kiss. “Thank you, my Queen.” And with that Trym rushed off to collect Diarmaid.


	12. A Special Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trym goes on their own little hunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gore, vomitting, and violence. Is it cannibalism for a halfling to eat human?

A guard provided them with a scrap of clothing for Diarmaid to pick up the scent on and they were off, running and blinking through the dense underbrush, Trym excited enough to forget the nausea. It only took an hour to reach the stream where the guard said Borrig was hiding out nearby. Trym got down from the Diarmaid and stalked quietly through the bushes as the hound led the way. After a couple minutes of slow movement, Trym caught sight of a plume of smoke rising up through the trees and took the lead. And suddenly there he was, chopping wood as the Queen’s Knight watched through the leaves. Signaling for Diarmaid to stay in the brush, Trym stood up and began to walk toward him. Borrig’s ears perked up as they stepped into the clearing, swinging the axe around to defend himself before seeing Trym and relaxing his stance.

The hobgoblin sneered but in doing his face contorted into a disgusting mess, the hand shaped scar pulling his skin in all different directions as he tried to force it into a smile.

“The halfling returns to finish the job it couldn’t do before. Has your queen finally loosened your leash enough for you to come after me? Well run back and tell her I don’t belong to her court of fools anymore.” He hacked up something and tried his best to spit it out through his mangled lips. “She would rather enjoy the torment of her subjects than cause her pet any harm. It’s disgusting, allowing a mortal to take precedence over her own subjects. She has no right to lord over me anymore.”

“She’s sent me to kill you, Borrig. This is my reward,” Trym said slowly, stopping to stand in front of him.

“Ah, my fate is sealed then," he said mockingly. "No doubt she’s made you into an obedient little shit since I last saw you. Who replaced me then? Gorash? Fennig more likely, he’s always been as soft as rotting wood, wouldn’t put a mark on you.” Borrig spun the axe in his hands and shifted his feet. “Well go on then, kill me, pup. For your sweet Titania.” 

Trym reached over their shoulder to draw the broadsword, the grating of the metal leaving the scabbard disturbing the silence of the woods. They held it level pointed towards Borrig and then dashed forward swinging it towards him. Borrig, always unnaturally agile, hopped up onto the stump, letting the sword bury itself in the wood and jumped, hoping to bury his axe in Trym’s skull. The axe head made contact with the iron crown as Trym turned, sending sparks into their hair as it failed to make purchase. With a grunt, Trym wrenched the sword out of the stump, using the momentum to pivot around to where Borrig had landed and smack him in the back with the flat of the sword. The wind knocked out of him, Borrig stumbled and tried again with the axe. Trym crouched allowing the high swing to pass over their head and came up again with a punch to Borrig’s chin.

Borrig spit blood onto the ground and laughed. “You’re not trying to kill me, you’re just roughing me up halfling. I doubt something like you could have the stomach for something so messy.” In response Trym whipped the sword, lodging it in Borrig’s side. They pulled it out and the wound was revealed. Unlike most faeries, hobgoblins bled, a viscous yellow liquid that pumped out and clung to his clothes.

Trym dropped the sword to the ground and pulled out a stiletto, pushing the frozen Borrig to the ground and dropping a knee onto his chest. Borrig eyes were going glassy but was brought back to life by the pain of Trym’s stiletto in his shoulder.

Trym put down more weight as he tried to speak, forcing the air out of his lungs.

“Be quiet, I want to talk to you for a second,” Trym said.

Borrig stopped trying to talk, his eyes widened in fear and pain as Trym reached down with a glowing hand to Borrig’s side. 

“There, you won’t die just yet.” They sat down cross legged next to Borrig on the ground, soaking their pants in the pool of his thick blood. “I wanted to thank you for everything you did to me. You are a disgusting bastard and you are going to die in the next few minutes but you helped me realize how fucked up this world is. It’s not just Titania, it’s all of you, every fucking fae here.” Trym leaned back to look at the canopy above them. “A couple hours ago, I saw a group of people, my people, make a deal with Titania to be hunted like animals. I know that every single one of them is being toyed with by some fat faerie courtier. But I’m here with you instead of throwing my life away to help them. I’ve seen so much fucked up stuff but after all this time, I still haven’t done anything to stop any of it. I’ve been able to live here despite it all. And I think it’s mostly because of your cruel and brutally honest introduction to this fucking world. Yeah. Thanks, you bastard.”

Trym got up from the ground and brushed themself off. They slowly dragged a limp Borrig over to the stump he had been chopping wood on and leaned him over. He was too weak at this point to move but he could still talk. His pleading and threats blended together into nonsense as Trym picked up the axe, spinning it around to test its weight before bringing it down on Borrig’s neck. The bone splintered as the axe fell, neatly releasing his head to the ground.

They whistled and the Diarmaid came bounding up to them, circling Borrig’s limp body and then coming to lick the blood from Trym’s face. Trym chuckled, pushing the dog away and patted the side of his head. “Come on, grab his head and let's get back.”

Heading back toward the tower clearing, the pair passed several courtiers crashing through the woods on their giant steeds chasing game. The mounts looked more excited than the riders, saliva flying from their bared teeth as they galloped.

Arriving in the clearing, Diarmaid trotted up the hill to where Titania sat. Unlike before, the mounts weren’t tied up, instead spread amongst those tents of those who had finished hunting. They knelt down next to their masters and hunched over bloody messes of what were now unrecognizable as people and fae, tearing pieces of flesh and throwing their heads back to let it glide down their throats. The hounds were also loose, scavenging from the messier of the steeds who snapped when the dogs came too close to their meal.

Titania was leaned over Mordha whose white muzzle was stained with red human blood. She was stroking its bare neck as it ate from an indistinguishable red mass on the ground but she looked up as Tyrm led Diarmaid into the tent.

“Out,” Trym said and the hound dropped Borrig’s drool covered head onto the grass. Diarmaid dropped to the ground, hind raised in the air, and looked up expectantly at Trym.

“Let him have it,” Titania said. “He deserves a reward as well.”

Trym nodded and gave the head a kick, rolling it back to Diarmaid who pounced on it and immediately began to gnaw on the skull. Trym unstrapped their sword from their back and took a seat with Titania at the low table piled high with small pastries and bits of meat on skewers.

“Why so quiet, pet? Come here.” Titania pet her lap.

Trym placed the iron on the table and obediently crawled over to where she was sitting. Their head was gently pulled down into her lap as the Queen began to stroke their head. “Speak your mind,” she whispered.

Almost unnaturally, the truth began to pour out of them, recounting their entire encounter with Borrig and how it felt, how thankful they were for having met him and how satisfying it was to kill him. Titania was silent as they spoke. Realizing something, Trym sat up to look Titania in the eye.

“My Queen I have a proposition.” Titania raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet.

“I think I’ve come to accept my place here in your kingdom. I’ve learned to be content serving you and living here but I…” Trym wasn’t sure how to continue. “I know that you’ll never stop hurting me, that’s why I’m here, for your entertainment. I’m not going to ask you to stop showing me the court’s cruelty towards my people or for you to treat me any differently than you do now, that would be pointless. I can’t fight you anymore, it’s futile and painful and I don’t want to. But… I… I want to hunt the Unseelie traitors for you. Those fae are worse than anyone in your castle and if I could just do some good, I could... I swear, whatever you do to me I’ll be able to bear it but I need… I would appreciate an outlet in exchange for the pain you cause me.” Trym nervously sat there before her waiting for a response.

Titania was quiet for a moment. Then she spoke. “It sounds like you are trying to make a deal without offering anything in return.” Trym opened their mouth to talk but she lifted a finger to their mouth before they could. “Personally, I prefer our arrangement as it is. You sold yourself to me, a deal has already been made and you’re not getting out of it, little Amadán. But…” She wrapped her arms around Trym, her arm tightening over their neck as she cradled them against her chest, looking at their eyes which were wide with fear. “I do love having you here with me. I’ve seen mortals become so boring after a certain amount of time. They just do as they're told without question, they wouldn’t even bat an eye if I asked them to kill their own mother. It’s awfully boring. Your psyches tend to crumble given enough time.” She trailed off in thought as Trym’s heart beat frantically. Suddenly she released them and reached across the table.

“Here. Try this, love,” she said holding out a small tart piled high with thin slices of raw meat arranged in a rosette dripping with red blood. Trym hesitated, which caused Titania to giggle.

“Are you worried that I would give you something from today’s hunt? Don’t fret, I never quite developed the taste for mortal meat.” She reached out to touch Trym’s jaw as they hesitantly opened their mouth and she placed the treat on their tongue. Trym chewed slowly and swallowed as Titania’s smile grew wide. “Although that doesn’t necessarily mean we should deprive ourselves of new experiences, does it?”

Gagging violently, Trym choked on the small piece of what must have been human already down their throat. They turned away from Titania and crawled to the edge of the tent where they stuck a finger down their throat and threw up onto the grass. As they heaved, they felt Titania’s arms begin to massage their shoulders. When they were done, she slid her arms around their waist and pulled them back to sit in her lap, their head resting underneath her chin.

“This is how I’d like to keep you forever. Obedient, but not devoid of the mortal sensitivities that I love so much. Still hesitant to play my little games and still afraid enough for me to enjoy it. If you really think hunting down the deserters of my court would help you to stay this way then I’ll allow it. I want to preserve this version of you for as long as possible. We can make the arrangements when we return to the castle. All I require in return is that you come back to me.” She held Trym tighter, who was blankly staring into the woods, mouth still tasting of sick. 

“Thank you, my Queen.” Across the tent, Diarmaid had broken through Borrig’s skull and was now lapping the thick yellow fluid from the cavity. Trym focused on the grisly mess as Titania began to whisper her plans for that night into their ear.

The ride back through the woods was unpleasant. Trym couldn’t stop staring up at the dried blood covering Mordha’s muzzle as the Diarmaid kept pace with the Queen’s mount. It was no better when it got dark because even over the sounds of the procession, Trym could still hear the cries and calls that started to come from the woods. They noticed that the number of guards between the queen and the edge of the roads increased which didn’t do well to put them at ease.

Even though it was late when they returned to the castle, there was an army of attendants waiting for them. The mounts were led away and after a moment of hesitation, Trym handed Diarmaid reigns over to the attendant that came for him.

“I’ll come see you soon, friend,” Trym said to the hound who was sadly looking back at them as they were led back to the kennels.

They felt a hand on their back and let Titania guide them away from the party dispersing from the courtyard. She led them back to her apartments for what they assumed would be another long night.


	13. Neglected Duties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trym prepares to leave the castle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: sex, biting, and a wee bit of blood

Diarmaid’s heavy breathing made his stomach a soothing place for Trym to rest their head. This had led to them falling asleep in the kennel almost every night this week as they prepared with Fennig for their expedition out of the castle. Titania was not going to be happy that they had fallen asleep in the hay again last night meaning that she couldn’t summon them for her late night activities.

As Trym tried to get up, Diarmaid stirred and whipped around, smacking a paw onto their chest pinning them to the ground.

“No no no, I have to go, move.” They wiggled out from underneath Diarmaid’s paw and it limply fell to the ground as Diarmaid turned to look at Trym with his big black begging eyes.

“We don’t want her getting jealous of you.” Trym rustled Diarmaid’s ears and scratched the sides of his face. “The best I can do is go back to her for breakfast and minimize the fallout.”

Trym got up and stretched and then jumped over the barrier. The dog materialized in the walkway belly up and wiggling but Trym deftly hopped over him. “No, I need to go,” they said laughing. Diarmaid’s whimpering followed them as they weaved through the stalls and out of the kennel. Stepping out into the sunlight, Trym saw Fennig asleep against the wall again. It had taken Trym a while to notice because he never talked about it but Fennig didn’t actually have a bed. He had been assigned to keep constant watch over the kennels, so the only times he did sleep, napping in the hay or propped up by his spear, was when he could be sure that no one would see his negligence. 

Trym assured themself that the closest thing they had to a friend was safe from Titania, reasoning that she would leave him alone until the next time she decided that Trym’s behaviour needed correcting. But there were always the courtiers to worry about. Fennig was low enough on the social ladder to be the target of some of the more cruel residents of Titania who were always waiting to catch him or some other castle attendant lacking in their duties so they could carry out a justified reprimand that could range from the painful carving of wings or ears to spending a night strung upside down from a tree in the garden. Having already been singled out by Titania, the courtiers could probably get away with much worse with Fennig if they felt like it.

Trym kicked his boot and Fennig quickly straightened himself and spear as he woke from his light sleep.

“Not much longer now, I’m almost out,” he mumbled to Trym, still a bit groggy.

“We’re almost out. Someone will come get you when everything is ready, the Queen says you need to stay on guard until 'the very moment you’re ready to leave,’ her words.

“ _Caic tarbh_ , she’s just trying to prolong this as long as possible. I don’t even see how keeping me here could still entertain her.” Trym walked backwards toward the main castle.

“I don’t know why you’re asking me, you would understand better than I ever could,” Trym said with a smile. Fennig grunted and pulled his cap down and leaned back against the wall.

Trym hurried up through the service corridors back into the palace proper and into the kitchens where they saw Titania’s breakfast being prepared. A quick chat and an attendant told them that she was bringing it to her apartments instead of the dining hall. She was nervous when Trym offered to take it up for her until they told her about how bad of mood she was going to be in this morning. Hearing that, she quickly thanked them and hurried off leaving a tray of food for Trym to carry up. The tray was loaded with food but Trym managed, taking much longer to reach the Queen’s apartments than the servant probably would have. 

_Great_ , they thought as they struggled to open her door with the tray in their hands, _now she’s going to horny and hungry_. But Trym needed her in a good mood today. Even though she had agreed that Trym could spend some time out of the castle, she could always find some reason to keep them with her for as long as she wanted. The tray tipped and almost fell when Trym nudged her door open. _I really should have come to see her last night_ , Trym thought, upset with themself for having given into the comfort of the kennel stalls and Diarmaid’s soft belly.

Walking in her bed chamber, Trym put on their most dashing smile, hoping their halfling charm might distract her from a late breakfast and their absence.

“Good morning, my Queen. I took the liberty to bring you your breakfast this morning.” She was sitting up in bed with a heavy book in her lap. “What are you reading, my Queen?”

Titania gave them a cold look, shut the book, and slid it off her lap making space for Trym to put her breakfast, which they quickly did.

“A book of human history, war tactics of King something-or-other.” She picked up the cup that Trym had miraculously not spilled and took a sip. “You were with that dog again last night, I can smell it.”

“I was preparing the Diarmaid for our expedition and I lost track of…”

“Not that dog, the other one, the bitch I sent to stand guard around that hole of dog shit. The one you insisted on accompanying you,” Titania interrupted. Trym’s asking for Fennig to come with them was still a sore spot but Titania but she had reluctantly allowed it. She reached out to cup Trym’s face. “There’s still time for me to assemble a small squadron to accompany you instead.” Trym put their hand over hers and put on another smile.

“My queen, a company any larger than two would attract too much unwanted attention.” As an added measure, Trym took her hand and kissed it, looking up her arm into her bright green eyes. “And you promised me I could organize this mission as I saw fit.”

She scoffed at their dramatic overkill but she still took their face in her hands and brought them closer to the bed.

“Oh, I did say that, didn't I. Fine, I concede. Come lay with me for a bit, my brave little halfling.” Trym moved to climb onto the bed, when Titania stopped them. “I hope you don’t think you’re getting into my bed covered in hay and dog hair.”

Trym had thought she might want to cash in on their absences every night this week and unceremoniously stripped and tossed their clothes into a corner. Titania dragged them up onto the bed into her arms like a rag doll.

“Ugh, you still stink. I would have someone bathe you but I don’t feel like waiting.” Aggressively, Titania tossed Trym to the other side of the bed, knocking the tray of food from her lap, and knelt over them. She leaned down, her silky night robe tickling their stomach, and began to plant kisses on Trym’s neck. They relaxed and let Titania take control of the situation, taking the passive role she often wanted from them. Her kisses climbed up their neck, across their jaw, and back down the other side as her hands slowly moved to grip Trym’s wrists and hold them down above their head.

Without warning, Titania bit down right above their collar bone. Pinned down, Trym could only shout in pain, which was quickly muffled by Titania’s lips on theirs. They could taste the metal of their own blood on her lips as her tongue circulated the taste throughout their mouth.

Titania lifted her face a couple inches and whispered, “I wanted to make sure you didn’t forget me once you left the castle. The scarring shouldn’t be too noticeable, my love.” She leaned back down to lick the blood collecting in the divot in Trym’s neck making them wince. She continued to map Trym’s body with kisses and gentler nips until she was content with the marks she had left. 

Releasing their hands, she guided them down to her hips. Trym went through the motions until the Queen was satisfied and fell back onto the bed beside them.

“Now you really need a bath, Amadan. Come, I am quite hungry now and it seems I’ve ruined breakfast.” She got out of bed, stepping over the pile of food that some poor attendant would have to clean later. Opening the dressing room, her swarm of pixie attendants were released and encircled her, pinning back the stray hairs into a respectable bun. Trym, too tired to move, watched as they lifted the wrinkled robe off of her body and dressed the Queen in a dress that was somehow more revealing than her nightwear. Now clothed, Titania turned to Trym. 

“Your queen says she's hungry and you choose to lay there lounging in your own filth,” she said laughing. “Get yourself dressed so I can eat.” She picked up the book she had discarded on the floor as Trym hopped down from the bed. Despite their queen’s improved mood, they still hurried through her apartments and to their own room.  
The small room had trunks piled against the wall in preparation and it took some searching for Trym to find something suitable to wear. They couldn’t be sure if Titania would be offended if they tried to hide her mark on their neck from her courtiers, deciding on a tunic with a neckline low enough to reveal half of the slowly bruising bite mark.

Back in the Queen’s apartments, Titania was lounging on a divan, back to reading her book of human wars. She looked up at Trym’s entrance.

“Finally, I’m starved. Now, escort your queen to breakfast, my pet.” She held out her arm and Trym took it, helping her up and out into the halls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caic tarbh - "bullshit"


	14. Into the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trym and Fennig set off into the Fae wilds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: mentions of sex and bdsm, mentions of violence, nothing too bad

Titania had gathered all of her courtiers to see Trym off. They were standing off to the side bored and uninterested as the Queen busied herself ordering around the attendants who were loading up the pack mule with trunks of supplies and food. They had three mounts, Diarmiad, another one of those toothy horses, and a thick broadset mule with ears like a rabbit that almost brushed the ground and a stubby snout. The amount being strapped onto it would have made any mortal realm mule buckle and fall to the ground. But this faerie mount just stood there calmly and unamused as chest after chest was secured to it back. Diarmaid had the lighter load of just Trym’s essentials, bedding and weapons, while Fennig’s mount, Brushtick, had his. Brushtick was closer in appearance to a normal horse, with a patchy brown and white hide, but still had the alarming set of canine teeth in a jaw that could open hinge open to perfectly fit and crush Trym’s skull.

Trym stood with Diarmaid’s reins as Titania bustled around them, causing the hound to pad the ground nervously at her excitement. After their morning in bed, Titania had spent the rest of the day looking over the route Trym had planned and the manifest of supplies they had packed. She had given them free reign to plan the journey but she still wanted to oversee everything. Several of her advisors had approached Trym, giving them access to their maps of the kingdom, and Trym suspected she had sent her people to brief Fennig as well. Trym was happy to let him remember all the targets and routes, and he already knew all of the Seelie laws that the Nymphs had been trying to teach Trym.

Fennig finally showed up, carrying nothing but his pole spear. He made his way to his horse quickly, skirting around the cluster of courtiers and giving Titania the widest possible girth. Despite his efforts, the Queen cut him off before he reached Brushtick, greeting him with a wide smile and a few quiet words that Trym couldn’t hear over the bustle of the attendants. Head bowed, Fennig nodded and Titania let him go, leaving him so that she could continue bothering the attendants.

With Fennig having arrived, the last things were quickly latched onto the mule. Their little two-person procession formed, Trym and Fennig both mounted on their steeds with the mule connected by a lead to Brushtick. Titania stood between the two of them and gave a short speech to her courtiers about how her knight was being sent off to cut down the defectors that doubted the strength of her kingdom, putting extra embellishment on how she herself would deal with anyone else who even considered leaving her court. Now Trym understood why she had dragged her courtiers out to see them off. When she was done, she turned to Fennig.

“Return without my knight, dog, and you will be considered a traitor, which comes with all the punishments deserving of one. And Amadan,” she turned to Trym. “You have an obligation to come back to the palace. Fail to remember that and I’ll have to start from scratch with you. And what an arduous task that would be.” She leaned down and gave them a peck on the cheek, trailing her hand over the spot where she had marked them that morning. “Don't forget about me.”

She stepped out of their way and the grinding of the front gates broke the silence of the crowd.The forest lay before them as Trym and Fennig left the castle. 

There was no way to tell when the sun would set as a Faerie Realm sunset never came when expected. Despite the designations of days and weeks, the sun moved with a mind of its own and as a result, time was more of a fluid concept. In the castle, sunrise and sunset didn’t matter as much, since every hallway was lit with the glow of torches or pixies. But out in the forests, where yeth hounds only hunted after sunset, one had to keep the sun in their sights.

Diarmaid and Brushtick carried them into the forest letting the darkness of the canopy overtake their party. Flashes of the sun above them assured them they still had enough time to find a relatively safe place to stop before it got dark. 

Fennig, who had been talking excitedly about how much better it would be to eat hardtack and dried fruit and sleep on the mossy ground than get scraps from the kitchen and sleep in pee-soaked hay, finally shut his mouth as it started to get darker.

“Best not to draw attention to ourselves now,” he said in a hushed voice. “We should be able to fend off anything that comes looking for us but why invite conflict.” An echoing scream came through the trees, a long way off but still bone-chilling. Fennig urged his horse to a trot and pulled ahead of Trym. 

“We shouldn’t linger,” he said to Trym looking over his shoulder.

“Yup,” Trym said quickly as Diarmaid sped up to keep pace.

They made it to one of the places marked on their map as a permanent shelter just before the sunlight was completely gone and dismounted in almost total darkness. Hands free, Trym stooped down to pick up a fist sized rock from the ground. Cupping their hands around it, Trym poured a spell into the stone. Reaching into the well of faerie magic, Trym almost miscast because of how much power was present there in the forest. Despite that, the stone still lit up, giving off a cool blue light that illuminated Trym’s face and their destination.

“You get to cast little tricks like that and she gets someone to keep her bed warm? I don’t understand why either of you agreed to that deal.” Fennig, who was shaking his head, was caught off guard when Trym lightly tossed the rock to him, causing him to stumble to catch it. Laughing, Trym gathered up both Brushtick and the mule’s leads and motioned for Diarmaid to follow them. 

“And you think I do? Most days, I don’t think any of it was worth it, honestly.” 

With Fennig holding the light above him, they approached the shelter that Titania’s maps had marked as safe. From what Trym could understand, there were places that most intelligent creatures of the forest still feared or respected as holdings of either Titania or Oberon. In actuality, they had been abandoned sometime during the many periods of shifting borders. The holding they were approaching must have at some point been a section of a wall, but now all that remained was the first floor of a guard tower, with crumbling bits of the stone wall trailing off to both sides.

“Looks about as cozy as the kennel, right Fennig?” Trym said leading the mounts and following Fennig through the collapsing door frame. Not even their less than ideal setting could take away the bubbly feeling of being out from under Titania’s oppressive gaze.

“Hmm…” Fennig held the light up to inspect the mostly intact roof above them.

Trym left him to wander around the one room building with the light as they unloaded Diarmaid and then the mule, leaving Brushtick, who’s lips pulled back when Trym came too close, for Fennig to take care of.

Trym dragged their sleeping mat and a packet of dried food over to the center of the room to where Fennig had started to build a fire underneath a large hole in the ceiling from the litter that filled the room. Focusing on the pile of broken furniture Fennig has assembled, Trym tried to siphon off a bit more faerie magic to light it. It rushed out faster than expected again, this time, creating a fiery blast that knocked them both over before dispersing.

“ _Blaigeard_! You want to kill us this early on? What, are you scared the yeth hounds will have too hard of a time finding us!”

“Fuck!” Trym said panting hard and laughing. “Sorry, the magic here is a lot here. I only meant to light the fire.”

Fennig stared at them incredulously. “I always thought it was exaggerated how moronic halflings could be. You’re sitting in the heart of the Faerie Realm and you’re surprised that the magic of the Seelie Queen is stronger than usual.” He sat down next to the now happily burning fire. “Pass me my dinner before I decide to walk back to the castle and face Titania. Maybe she’ll just behead me instead of burning me alive.”

Trym sat down across from him and broke open the sealed packet of food. They took a handful of fig-like dried fruits and broke a chunk from the square of dried out bread and passed the rest of the sachet to Fennig.

“Calm down, I haven’t cast a spell in who knows how long. Titania wasn’t subtle about how I wasn’t supposed to use magic in the castle.”

“She was probably concerned with you burning it down to ground,” Fennig said as he rummaged through the pack picking out a salted piece of meat. His sharp teeth bit through the tough leathery meat as if it were fresh.

In the corner, the steeds were grazing on the grass growing up through the cracks in the stones while Trym could hear Diarmaid’s heaving padding as he chased down something just outside of the building for his dinner. A squeal let them know he had caught it, followed by even louder crunching of its bone breaking between the dog’s teeth. Trym's mind drifted off, imagining Titania and her courtiers hunting down that young boy, chasing him through the woods and letting their steeds rip him apart.

“Wonder what that _soith ríoga_ will do with herself now that you’re not around anymore. She’s too dignified to pleasure herself, she’ll have slept with half the castle by the time we return.” Fennig’s laugh drowned out the sounds of Diarmaid’s eating for a moment. When a distracted Trym didn’t join in, his ears perked up. He shifted to get a better look at Trym.

“You can laugh. Nobody’s here except you and I and all the things that want to eat us.” He eyed Trym suspiciously and then leaned back.

“This wouldn’t be the first time one of you has fallen in love with her…” Fennig said jokingly as he finished up his jerky. The ridiculousness of what he said snapped Trym out of their daze and made them laugh again.

“The only person I ever loved is long dead,” Trym said, still laughing. “The idea that anyone could ever love Titania makes me feel sick.”

“It’s happened before. Maybe she just likes how scared of her you are,” Fennig said, theorizing.

“You’re not scared of her?” Trym said, turning on Fennig. “She let me tie her to the bed once and take a whip to her ass and I was still terrified the entire time that I was doing it wrong and that she’d tie me down and show me how it was done.” Fennig choked on his mouthful and had to cough it up into the fire.

“I would be lying if I said certain parts of me weren’t a little excited right now,” he said chuckling.

“I don’t want to hear about your dick, Fennig, I want you to tell me that you really aren't scared to death of her.” Trym motioned for the packet of food and Fennig tossed it over.

“No, I’m not.”

Trym stared at him.

“I’d be scared if I didn’t understand exactly what would bring the wrong kind of attention to me. Her violence isn’t senseless, it’s always to achieve something and if you’re already doing exactly what she wants, there’s no reason to fear her. It’s an effective way to run a castle, albeit drastic.”

“That’s ridiculous, how are you ever supposed to know what she wants?”

“In your case maybe it isn’t so obvious,” Fennig admitted. “But that’s why she enjoys your company, your people just don’t understand it and she gets to punish you for your ignorance. But it makes perfect sense to me and to every other member of her court,” Fennig said, shrugging.

“What about when she wanted me to kill you for losing in a fucking demonstration. Tell me what purpose did that serve?”

“Simple,” he explained. “To show her courtiers that you could and would kill for her. Disloyalty or weakness would be met with swift action. But your suggestion to humiliate me instead served the same purpose so she let me live. Her methods of keeping her castle aren’t that great when you’re the example, which is why I’m here.” 

“But out here,” Fennig gestured to the walls around them. “I don’t need to live every second thinking what the correct thing to do is. Nobody is watching. It’s wonderful,” he said smiling widely.

Trym leaned back and grinned.  
When they had finished eating, they put out the fire and set up their mats. Canceling the spell on the glowing rock left them in complete darkness. Trym felt Diarmaid lay down next to them and could hear the snorts of the horses nearby. Off in the distance they heard a piercing howl that made the warm feeling Trym had felt since they left the castle vanish.

“Do I even want to know what made that sound?” they whispered to Fennig through the pitch black.

“A yeth hound. Travel in packs which hunt only to hear their prey scream in fear as they eat them alive. Have a restful sleep, halfing,” Fennig whispered back.  
Trym turned their back to him and wormed in closer to Diarmaid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Blaigeard" - Bastard  
> "Soith ríoga" - Royal bitch


	15. Letting Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fennig and Trym get lost in the Fae Wilds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alcohol/drugs

They packed and left as soon as the sun pierced through the canopy. During the day, the forest wasn’t nearly as ominous. Even the gaping holes in the twisted trees weren’t as scary in the daylight. Trym kept falling behind to get a closer look at things, inspecting the delicate jewel-like fungi that grew in the shade of the hollowed out trees until Fennig got impatient and shouted back to them just how quickly their spores would kill you if inhaled.

A couple times a rustling in the brush would alert Diarmaid, who either excitedly bound directly at it, dragging Trym along with him, or instinctually blink backwards, growling until the noises stopped. Brushtick handled these encounters much more calmly, staring directly at the unseen creature and pulling back her lips to expose her teeth until it was quiet. The two steeds together, with their innate understanding of the forest, managed to keep Fennig and Trym well out of the way of anything actually dangerous and sent the smaller things running back into the woods away from the two riders.

They traveled for most of the day switching between well trodden roads and overgrown paths whose entrances were completely hidden and only known to them because of the palace’s well maintained maps. It was on one of these paths that they became lost.

“Fuck, Fennig. How do you get us lost when you literally have the map in your hands?” Trym spurred Diarmaid to pass the mule and catch up to Fennig and Brushtick. Fennig swung the unrolled piece of fibrous parchment down from his horse as Trym came up behind him, almost smacking them in the face.

“You take the map then. I can’t be blamed for the fact that your queen’s maps don’t account for the rate at which these damned trees grow.” He turned around in his saddle to rummage through his saddle bags. “While you do your very best to read a map in a language you’ve only just grasped, halfling, I think I’ll be having a drink.” 

Fennig pulled a skinny glass bottle with a small silver cap from his bag and swung his legs around to sit side saddle.

“We’re not a full day away from the palace...” Trym mumbled as they unrolled the map across Diarmaid’s broad neck.

“Let me be. I haven’t had a sip since you got me demoted and it’s hardly stimulating to play the part of your encyclopedia all day long.” Fennig took a long swig from the bottle and sighed. “I’ve had enough of being bored out of my mind in that castle.” He recapped the bottle and leaned over to watch Trym struggle with the map.

“I really don’t want to be out here when the sun goes down, why can’t you just wait until we find the closest shelter?” they nagged. “Here I think I figured out where we went wrong, I’ll lead for a while.” Trym pulled ahead and Fennig followed begrudgingly.

At some point, Fennig started singing an upbeat song about the Goblin Market. His inebriated singing was unimpressive and off-beat but telling him to stop would only put him in a bad mood. 

Trym listened as Fennig sang a story about a goblin vendor. He had set his sights on two human girls, sisters, knowing he could make a lot of money from them. He made his deal with the first girl but the second one was harder. No matter what he did she wouldn’t take the deal he offered. Desperate and frustrated that he couldn’t make a deal, the goblin resorted to attacking the girl and trying to drag her under the hill with him. But when she escaped with her sister and the goblin returned to the market empty handed, the disappointed buyers fell on him, labelling him a liar and a cheater. The cheery tune quickly started to feel inappropriate as the song started to describe in detail what faeries did to liars and cheaters.

“Nice song. Are you done serenading the forest?” Trym shouted back at Fennig.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Fennig shouted back.

Trym turned around just in time to see Fennig take another sip from his bottle. He lifted the bottle up and waved it towards them.

“Would you like a sip, halfling? I’m feeling in the mood to share. This stuff is not nearly as strong as what the Queen has in her court, it shouldn’t hurt you.” Fennig threw the bottle forward which Trym had to stand up in the saddle to catch.

“No, but I think I will hold onto this for you,” Trym said, shoving the booze deep into their pack. “Also, sorry to ruin your buzz but I think we’re still lost.” Fennig's loud groan made Brushtick whine.

“ _A dhiabhail_! We’ll have to keep moving all night now, halfling!” Fennig rode up to Trym and Diarmaid and snatched the map away. After a second, he smiled. “We’re in luck, there’s a lake that we should be near. If you climb one of those trees, we can head in its direction.”

“What’s better about camping on the beach than in the woods?”

Fennig sighed. “This is why I need to drink, halfling, your laughable cluelessness and it being my duty to fix that.” He hopped down from his horse and started talking as he dug through his saddle bags.

“Any lake of a reasonable size should have a couple nixies living in it. They would rather stay in their pond than come out to bother us but if any actual threat came by, they’d rip it to pieces. As long as we don’t drink any of their water, they’ll leave us alone and keep us relatively safe.” He pulled a second bottle from his bag to replace the one that Trym had confiscated. “Shimey up that tree and point us in the right direction, halfing.”

Trym sighed and hopped off of Diarmaid, walking toward a tree by the side of the path. Fennig locked his fingers together and gave Trym a boost into the tree. They nimbly wove between the dense branches, disrupting a group of pixies who gave them a couple of nasty stings before flying off.

Breaking through the canopy, Trym was met with a blast of cool air which made their eyes water. Finding solid footing on a branch, Trym stood up straight above the green carpet before them. It looked almost solid enough to walk on and stretched all the way to the horizon. Turning around, Trym could see the spires of Titania’s castle and the fields of her kingdom behind it. The cover of the forest created a solid border around what Trym could see of the fields and settlements that Titania ruled, containing her dominion to what little land wasn’t completely overgrown with trees. It was nice to think about how little of this world she actually had control over. They stood there for a minute, letting the wind rustle their hair, before beginning to look for the lake Fennig had found. It didn’t take long for them to spot the hole in the sea of green.  
Sliding back down the tree, Trym found Fennig waiting on his horse expectantly. Trym pulled themself onto Diarmaid and took the lead, pulling off of the path and into the bushes in the direction of the lake. They moved in silence for a while, listening to the sounds of the forest which were louder now that they had left the path. It wasn’t long before the trees started to thin and the lake came into view. 

It was like a giant had buried a cleanly cut emerald into the earth. The water was completely still and green, and the tree roots stopped a good several feet from the sandy bank on all sides, as if they didn’t dare dip into the dark water. Diarmaid and Brushtick kept their distance from the water’s edge. The hound bayed as Trym tried to spur him forward.

“Guess we’ll camp right here then,” Trym said, dropping the reins.

They set up camp right at the forest’s edge, Fennig laying out his mat and then deciding he’d helped enough. He sat there nibbling on a square of bread while Trym unburdened the mule and built a fire small enough for them to heat up their food.

Trym finally laid out their bed mat and joined Fennig on the ground. The hobgoblin's yellow skin was flushed and his eyes were noticeably dilated. He sat relaxed and blissfully smiling as he watched Trym sit down.

“Are you sure you don’t want a sip, I’m having a wonderful time right now and you’re about to miss your chance to join me.” Fennig held up the near-empty bottle.

“I’m sure you are,” Trym said as they scanned the shadowed treeline before partially burying a metal flask of broth into the sand near the fire. They pushed it closer to the fire with a stick so it would boil and hopefully grant some relief from the cold air quickly rising off of the lake. A rustling made Trym quickly turn away from the fire and resume their watch on the forest.

Fennig sighed loudly. “All this stuff will do is relax you a bit. Nothing is coming out of that forest to get us. Now, will you finish this bottle before I do, halfling?” he said waving the bottle at them.

Fennig had finished his square of bread and was now trying to skewer a sausage on a stick before deciding it was too much effort and biting into it raw.

“Shouldn’t one of us be keeping watch? What about those Yeth hounds we heard the other night?” Trym tried not to sound too worried. They wouldn’t have the protection of one of Titania’s shelters.

“Even Yeth hounds wouldn’t want to bother a lake full of nixies, we’re safe here, there’s nothing to worry about. Relax.”

Reassured, Trym took the bottle and unscrewed the cap. It burned going down and Trym could feel the warmth starting to move through their body, cutting away at the cold wind coming off of the lake. Their shoulders sank as their body involuntarily relaxed. It felt as if a lead weight was pleasantly pressing them into the ground.

“Woah,” Trym said quietly, taking a deep breath.

“I envy your fragile constitution right now, halfling. It only took you one sip to have what’s taken me hours of drinking” said Fennig, laughing. He laid back onto his mat and looked up at the sky. Trym didn’t move, not because they couldn’t but because they just couldn’t be bothered to, perfectly content looking out across the lake. 

“Isn’t it wonderful? It slows your thoughts, numbs you completely. Here in this world, it can be quite nice to just forget how boring everything is.”

They watched the sky in silence. The setting sun was framed in the open sky above the water and reflected perfectly below. The colors changed as Trym stared at the sky through the lake's glassy reflection. Blue turned to a pale pink then to an orange that morphed into blood red. Just before the light had completely left them, the sky turned a deep emerald teal and for a moment, Trym couldn’t remember if they were looking down at the lake or up at the sky. Then the sun was gone. Trym didn’t know how long they sat there surrounded by the thick and complete darkness. 

There were no stars in the Faerie Wilds, no evidence of distance universes. Only the flickering of the dying fire made Trym sure that they hadn’t drifted out into space. The smell of food was what brought their mind back to their body. Dazed, Trym looked towards the fire to see that the cap had popped off the flask. Their soup was violently bubbling out onto the sand. Sluggishly, they moved to pull it out of the fire. They paused for a moment, foggily thinking about how hot the metal should be. But the realization was gone as soon as it registered, leaving Trym to drag their dinner out from under the coals, not even taking notice of the fire licking their fingers. They could feel their fingers tingling but it didn’t bother them enough to make them let go. They drank slowly and deeply, holding the flask of thick broth close to their body, listening but not fully understanding the song that Fennig had started drunkenly singing. 

At some point, Fennig grew quiet, and some time after that, the fire died. Trym sat clutching the flask until a wave of exhaustion overtook them and they passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "A dhiabhail" - Damn


	16. The Kelpie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trym wakes up in a sticky situation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Drowning, intoxication.

Trym woke up not to the sun rising but a bitter chill on their lower half. It took them a moment to realize where they were. The black waters of the lake were slowly rising up their legs and they were straddled on top of a horse dark enough that it almost looked like an extension of the water.

Trym, still groggy, spoke out loud to the horse carrying them off into the water.

“Where are we off to, you gorgeous thing. What a pretty mare...” They reached out to absent mindedly stroke the horse’s mane which was wet and slick with something much thicker than water.

The mare responded by twisting its head to look at Trym, its eye gleaming like an onyx. The sun was just beginning to rise and Trym, fascinated, stared at the eye which began to change colors in the growing light, refracting the warm colors of dawn into deep blue and greens. It was so mesmerizing that Trym failed to notice the changes the sun revealed on the rest of the horse. It was Fennig’s echoing shouts that broke them out of the trance allowing them to see exactly what had dragged them out to the deepest part of the lake.

The horse’s skin has turned a dark muddy green and the mane which Trym had been stroking was now a patchy mess, the missing hair replaced by slimy strands of rotting pondweed. The head, still turned to face its passenger, cracked open revealing a mouth that stretched almost up to the creature's ears, blackened gums studded with thin decaying teeth.

With what must have been its version of a smile, the mare began to descend, the cold of the water climbing up Trym’s chest as they began to panic. The booze was making it hard to think quickly. All the spells and incantations that they could remember at that moment were completely useless and the water was already up to Trym’s neck. Suddenly, the feeling of the horses back below them disappeared leaving Trym alone in the water. Even if Trym had known how to swim, the water was so thick that even their desperate flailing wouldn’t have been enough to keep them from sinking.

As their head fell below, Trym kept fighting against the water pulling them down. Lungs burning, Trym’s eyes opened only to see the unending yet beautiful underside of the lake. The sun lit up the surface of the water casting down rays that broke apart as they met the darkness below Trym’s feet. Trym almost felt badly about disturbing the calm of this underwater world as their body went through its final throws and forced open their mouth to inhale air that wasn’t there. Choking on water, Trym squirmed and tried again to pull themself up with limbs that were already starting to feel weak. Their movements slowed, lungs spasming trying again and again to breathe, until finally they hung suspended in the water, staring straight ahead as the world went dark.

\---

The pain of someone slapping their back woke Trym up again. The pressure forced the water up their throat and now they were choking on air, coughing up water to make room in their chest.

“You’re all right, breathe and you’ll be fine.” Trym heard Fennig’s voice and could feel his hand again patting their back more gently this time. They were lying on their stomach in the sand. Trym tried to speak but started to cough again. Finally they felt like they had the strength to sit themselves up.

“What happened?” Trym’s voice was hoarse.

A concerned Fennig was looking at them closely. Diarmaid came up beside them and laid down, resting his head on Trym's hand.

“It seems in my drunkenness I may have disregarded the fact that not all lakes have nixies living in them. And usually, whatever drives them away tends to be much more dangerous, especially for your folk.” Fennig bowed his head for a moment. “I’m not in the habit of apologizing but since I know that you appreciate transparency, it was absolutely my fault that you almost drowned.” Trym’s scratchy laugh surprised him.

“That wasn’t actually an apology, you know. You have to actually say, ‘I’m sorry.’ But I’ll accept it, assuming it’s also your fault that I didn’t die.” 

Fennig was quiet for a moment before he laughed as well.

“Right you are, halfing! Here, let’s dry you off.” Before Trym could protest, Fennig had scooped them up in his arms, carrying him up the beach to the remains of the fire and depositing them on their mat. Shaking out the sand, he wrapped his own mat around Trym and set about rebuilding the fire. Trym offered to light it with a spell but Fennig shook his head and fooled around with his knife and a flint stone before eventually making a spark. Before long, he had the fire going and was pulling out cured meat and dried fruits starting to boil some water to make a porridge. Trym sat there exhausted but surprised at Fennig’s sudden attentiveness and didn’t say a word when he pushed a cup of thick porridge into their hands followed by a portion of fried meat dripping with fat.

Satisfied that the halfling was sufficiently taken care of, Fennig began to roll out the maps, talking non-stop while he did. Trym carefully listened to him explain what it was that had almost killed them last night.

“They mainly target drunks, convincing them to get on their backs so that they can carry them out into the water and watch them drown. Kelpies generally don’t prey on fae, if they ever fail to kill one of us, we tend to come back with a small army to exterminate it. Again, it was entirely my fault, your intoxication included. If you had died, it would have torn you apart, tying your limbs up in the weeds to eat later. Kelpie’s only eat the dead and rotting. That how you were able to get out of the water without a scratch on you.” Fennig paused and tore a bite of uncooked meat. 

“Anyway, we need to figure out where we’re going. We weren’t sent out into the forest so that you could be eaten by Kelpies, we have a job to do.”  
Trym spoke up. “Our first target, it’s Beedlebung, a goblin merchant right?”

“Right,” said Fennig, unrolling another map. “He’d been selling the Queen impure products and ran when she found out. I heard that her staff purchased some meat for a special occasion which they were told was stag from your realm but turned out to be from an exceptionally large rat.”

“Yeah, and he’s been doing business out of a goblin market near the Unseelie border,” Trym said before taking another sip from their cup.

“And,” Fennig said proudly, “I believe I have found a way there that shouldn’t take us more than a couple days.” They finished breakfast accompanied by more of Fennig’s ramblings.

Fennig made Trym sit off to the side as he struggled to pack up their things and strap it all back onto the mule by himself. Trym was content to sit there and watch. The shock of almost drowning had left them completely sober but still tired. When he was done, Fennig reached to lift Trym up again.

“No no no, I can walk,” Trym said, pushing him away. Fennig hovered over them cautiously.

“Do you want to ride on Brushtick with me? We don’t want you falling…” Trym interrupted him.

“Fennig, you can leave me alone now.”

“Fine, but when you fall off, you’re riding with me.” They both mounted their steeds and set off on the path that Fennig had mapped out.


	17. The Goblin Market

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trym and Fennig take care of the first of Titania's deserters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: Blood and gore, heavy on the gore, violence, death, drugs, child abuse, human trafficking/slavery.  
> You've been warned...

The journey to the edge of Titania’s territory was quick. They made sure to reach a shelter every night now and Trym hadn’t seen Fennig pull out a bottle since the lake. It was early morning and according to the map, they were only an hour or so ride from the Goblin Market where they would find Beedlebung, the first deserter on the list.

They were finishing up breakfast when Trym finally realized something.

“Fennig, how does Titania know where Beedlebung is hiding if he’s all the way at the edge of her territory.”

Fennig swallowed the bite that was in his mouth before answering, “She doesn’t have spies everywhere if that's what you were worried about. It’s common knowledge that everything living in these woods either doesn't care for court politics or doesn't have the capacity to care. I don’t actually know her methods, but I am sure of the fact that not one creature in this forest is that loyal to her.”

“Huh, okay,” Trym murmured. “Anyway tell me about this goblin market we’re going to today, what should I expect?”

Fennig sighed as he had just taken a large bite. He made Trym wait, taking his time to chew it.

“As far as I know it should be like any other. As long as you don’t say yes to anything you should be fine. These merchants make most of their money by tricking your folk, so be careful of who you talk to.” Fennig gave Trym a look and then filled his mouth with more food.

Trym imagined what they might see for sale and the thought made them feel sick to their stomach.

“Fennig…” Trym started. “Don’t let me do anything stupid okay? I know why we're here but... there’s the chance that I’ll get distracted.” Fennig chuckled.

“Sure, halfling.”

Leaving the mule tied up in the safe house they had spent the night in, Trym and Fennig set off for the market. As they neared the camps and settlements that surrounded it, they started to pass other travellers on the road. Most were solitary riders carrying heavy bags or pulled along small wagons either piled high with merchandise or empty and sold out. One wagon they passed by took up the whole road, forcing them to pull off into a ditch. Inside, huddled together and still, were around twenty humans, all dead eyed. The goblin riding on the mule pulling the wagon along waved to Fennig before resting its gaze on Trym. 

He raised a bony finger in Trym’s direction and croaked, “Are you looking to sell that halfling there? I have room in my cart for one more. I’m heading for the Queen’s palace with these, I can pay you well.” Trym could feel their face flush with anger but Fennig spoke first.

“Sorry gent, but I’m not the owner of this one. Anyway they wouldn’t be worth your money, far too much of a hassle.” Fennig reached to pat Trym’s shoulder. The goblin shrugged and continued down the road. When he was gone, Fennig released his firm grip on Trym’s shoulder.

“I guess we know what Titania’s been up to while I’ve been gone. She’s probably been desperately searching for your replacement,” Fennig said smiling before Trym’s dirty look made him stop.

“Let’s just go,” Trym said while guiding Diarmaid out of the ditch and back onto the road.

“Don’t be jealous of them. I’m sure she’s just bought them to have a little fun at court.”

“Fennig, your people have a very fucked up sense of fun, don’t forget that.” Trym pulled ahead and rode alone for a bit, Fennig trailing behind. Trym slowed to rejoin Fennig as they reached the edge of the market.

“Let’s just find Beedlebung and take care of him. I don’t want to linger here, okay?” Trym kept their voice down. The market was crowded with all types of fae. There were plenty of hobgoblins and goblins, ranging in appearance from grotesque to human-like. They weaved around trees and stalls which were arranged in circles around trunks and between the massive roots. On top of Diarmaid, Trym was only just able to see over the heads of the crowd and rode close to Brushtick who forged their path forward.

They moved slowly past the stalls. Based on Titania’s description, Beedlebung was supposed to be a taller goblin wearing mortal realm clothes and ran a stall selling mortal realm goods. It wasn’t long before they found him.

“Trinkets and bobbles! I have bits and bobs, all from the lands of men!” Trym and Fennig both dismounted and got closer. He was standing on the shoulders of what looked to be a young half orc boy wearing a thick leather collar. There was a trio of hags rifling through the objects that covered the table, whispering amongst themselves and ignoring Beedlebung’s loud comments about each item they touched.

“That, ladies, was the knife of a human king. He left it behind after a meeting with a prostitute that ended rather violently. Quite the malicious history it has. Oh, and that was the same prostitute’s brassiere, she didn’t need it anymore after all.” His catlike eyes snapped to Trym as they approached the table, the hags noticing them as well and began to excitedly whisper to themselves.

“Helloooo there, little one. What brings you to my stall this fine day? If you were to find something that caught your eye, I’m sure we could work out a price that would leave both parties very happy.” He tugged sharply on the leash of the orc below him, who slowly knelt down, allowing Beedlebung to clamber down. He pulled out a small box and popped it open, scooping out a small scoop of white powder with his long grimy fingernail and holding it up to the boy who, squatting down to the goblin’s height, sniffed it up. His eyes widened and he blissfully rocked back and forth on his heels while Beedlebung turned to face Trym.

He was just taller than Trym with wide ears which were almost entirely covered in holes and piercings, dangly earrings colliding with each other when he moved his head. He was wearing a frilly white shirt tucked into pants which must have been intended for a halfling because they were visibly tight on him. A thick belt hung with leather pouches and coin purses was strapped loosely around his hips, into which he tucked away the small box of white powder, which Trym had since learned was called _luas_.

“Might I ask how you came to be here? It is unusual to see someone of your species so... “ His eyes flitted up and down Trym’s body before resting on the hilt of the broad sword poking over their shoulder. “... well armed.” He finally acknowledged Fennig standing there and smiled. “I don’t suppose this would be your friend here? I am surprised to see such a pair travelling together, quite odd, especially in these parts of the forest. Why, I’m sure a fine gentleman such as yourself would know just how much money could be made selling to the butchers here. I’d like to mention, I offer much better rates than any of them…” He smiled again, resting a hand on a fat coin purse hanging from his side. Fennig tried to respond but Trym spoke first.

“I’m afraid you’re not going to make a deal with him. If you want to work something out, you and I are going to have to have a talk.” Trym’s voice was confident and commanding and it seemed to convince the goblin.

“Ah, a free agent. You must have come here looking for something very particular. Let me buy you a drink so we can have a chat,” Beedlebung said, turning all his attention away from Fennig. He turned to the half orc who was swaying back and forth on the balls of his feet and pulled on his collar to bring him back down to his level, whispering a few words in his ear before throwing the leash down at his feet.

“My associate will watch my stall while we strike a deal, come, I know a great food stall down this way.” As Beedlebung turned his back, Trym looked up to Fennig and cast message. His face looked around confused as he heard Trym’s voice in his head. It took him a second to register, but he understood and nodded to Trym, taking Diarmaid reins and leading him away into the crowd.

Trym let Beedlebung lead him through the crowds. Titania’s iron crowd afforded Trym some level of protection from the unsavory figures that brushed past them but they kept their hand on the hilt of the stiletto in their belt all the same. The path Beedlebung took them around tree trunks and through rows of stalls, deeper into the maze of the market. Making a sharp right turn, they entered the abattoir..

Beedlebung turned around smiling and slowed down so he could speak to Trym.

“I thought I’d give you a full tour of what the market had to offer. Depending on the price you’re willing to pay, we might return here. You’d be surprised how many end up here of their own free will,” he said with a grin.

Trym’s mouth started to sweat as the overwhelming smell of metallic human blood hit them. They made the mistake of looking up as they passed a stand where a troll was lifting someone up to a metal hook hanging from a tree. The hook pierced her ankle and the barely conscious woman moaned. In one swift motion he cut her throat, blood pouring down her face into a bucket below making Trym gag. She was dead in seconds, but he left her hanging there to bleed out as he moved on to the next in a row of blank faced row of humans, halfling, and dwarves.

They quickly locked their eyes on the back of Beedlebung’s head and tried their best to ignore the sounds of cleavers breaking bone and butchers listing the available cuts of meat. Just off of the meat market was a small clearing with stools and tables scattered around, surrounded on all sides by carts and small cooking fires. Beedlebung brought them to a cart where a small twig-like creature was perched on a stool who hopped up as they approached.

“Beedlebung!” it shouted in a high-pitched nasally voice. “Anything you want, half off! My sister is very happy with the ring you sold her, the enchantment on it was exactly what she needed!”

“It was my pleasure, Troible. We’ll take a bottle of _cas a ’chait_ and two glasses if you would.” The creature crawled up the side of his wagon and produced a spherical blue glass bottle and two small stoneware cups.

“Come, sit. And tell me what problem is great enough that a halfling feels the need to make a deal with me.” Sitting across the table they had claimed, Beedlebung poured Trym a glass. The drink was pungent and milky white. Trym didn’t reach to take the cup and the goblin smiled.

“A good call, halfling,” he said, reaching to take the cup back. “One sip would have burned a hole through the lining of your stomach. But hey, you can’t blame me for trying, it’s our nature.” He took Trym’s cup and drank it himself. “So you’re not a fool, good to know. What kind of help did you need?” he said, weaving his fingers together.

“I lost somebody and I heard you are good at finding things.” Trym tried to focus on imagining how he would slaughter the goblin rather than the everpresent smell of gore.

“A child? A lover? A wife…?” Trym’s face gave it away. “Ah, a wife then. That’s quite a big ask. The only thing I can think of that could pay the price of what your asking for would be well… yourself, halfling. Don’t worry, I know how to do it quick and after you had… departed, you have my word that I’ll get your beloved out of whatever trouble she’s in. ” Blood boiling, Trym took a deep breath and changed the subject.

“What about that half orc you left watching your stall? What kind of deal did he make?”

“I’m sorry my friend, but I have no need for a second bodyguard, let alone a little halfling, and I would make much more money selling your carcass. But since you asked, that boy was given as collateral by his mother, and when she naturally couldn’t pay me back, I kept him. The _luas_ keeps him content and it’s much cheaper than an enchantment. Anyway, back to your payment though, do you agree on the price?” He snaked his hand across the table offering it to Trym but they ignored it.

“Not yet. I think I may have some things worth more to you than a dead scrawny halfling. You like trinkets from my world, right? Well, I’ve done a fair bit of adventuring in my world. Come take a look at what I’ve collected and if none of it seems a fair trade then you can have me.” Trym cast a quick minor illusion under the table and produced a ruby the size of their fist, pulling it away before Beedlebung could try and touch it.

Beedlebung shrugged and smiled. “It can’t hurt.” Trym knew he’d take the bait. He could just kill them once they were out of the market, making off with their corpse and their possessions. It wasn’t stealing if the owner was dead.

This time it was Trym’s turn to lead. They retraced their steps back through the abattoir, passing Beedlebung’s stall and the orc boy guarding it, before leaving the market by way of the main road. Beedlebung was hesitant when Trym stepped off the road into the bushes but continued to follow. Deep in the woods now and away from the market’s foot traffic, Trym stopped and turned.

“What’s this, halfling? Where are you camped?” Now it was Trym’s turn to smile. With their hand on their stiletto, they slowly walked towards him.

“I’m not selling you shit, goblin. And as much as I’d love to watch you try and find my wife, I would bet that even her bones are dust by now.”

Diarmaid’s growling made Beedlebung snap his neck to look behind him. Above the hound, Brushtick was standing with her teeth bared, Fennig standing beside her with a hand on her neck, his pole spear in the other.

“Halfing, please never cast that spell on me again. It was incredibly disorienting ” He leaned the pole spear down to point towards the goblin. “How did you want to do this?”

Trym gave him a savage grin. “However the fuck I want. Just don’t let him run onto the road.” Fennig raised his hands in mock surrender and then pulled out a small tightly rolled scroll from his pocket and tossed it to them.

“First read him his sentence, this is technically a court mandated execution.” Trym quietly groaned and broke the seal. Beedlebung meanwhile was still looking back and forth between Trym and Fennig, trying to figure out how best to escape.

“Beedlebung Hornstead, born under the rule of the Seelie Court and the sole Queen, Titania,” Trym read aloud. “For your crimes against the crown and breaking the laws of the Seelie Court, the Queen has deemed it a fair and just punishment that your life shall end at the hands of the Queen’s knight.” They crumpled the hearing into a ball and tossed it to the ground.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” Trym said while unsheathing their stiletto. “I guess it’s time to carry out my duty as the Queen’s knight, huh?” Beedlebung’s eyes widened and he stepped back into the tip of Fennig’s spear.

“My apologies,” he laughed nervously. “Had I known you were the Queen’s, I would have approached our encounter much differently. Is there a deal that we can make? I’ll do anything you want, free of charge, just in exchange for my life.” His hands were raised in defense but as Trym took a step closer, they were suddenly at his waist, whipping out an embellished short sword. Trym laughed at his unbalanced stance.

“Just let me go, tell her I’m dead. You can have my entire stock. And the boy, you can have the boy too.” He was panicking now, realizing his sword wouldn’t be enough.

“I’m not killing you for Titania, I could care less about what she expects from me out here. I’m killing you because you make me sick and killing you will make everything just a little less awful and because no one is going to stop me.” They did a quick feint to the left, throwing the goblin off balance before coming up on his right and kicking his leg, forcing him onto the ground where they brought the stiletto down into the shoulder of the arm holding the sword. Beedlebung cried out before swinging with his good arm to punch Trym in the gut throwing them back. 

Fennig just stood leaning against his spear as Trym hunched over and coughed. Picking the sword up with both hands, Beedlebung swung at Trym who had to drop to the ground and roll to avoid being slashed, popping back up again and leaping forward to plunge the knife into his thigh. Using the momentum of the leap, Trym swung around behind Beedlebung, putting a foot on his belt and pushing upward to wrap their arm around his throat. He froze when he felt the tip of the stiletto on the side of his throat.

“Please, I haven’t done anything to you,” he said hoarsely, dropping the short sword.

“You would have though,” Trym said before sinking the knife into the soft skin of his neck, the tip of it coming out the other side. Beedlebung gasped as his airways slowly filled with blood and Trym dropped off his back, leaving the knife in place as he stumbled. He tried in vain to pull the knife out of his neck but his hands were already slick with his own blood. He dies so much slower than the woman in the abattoir, his blood pouring over his white shirt as he suffocated.

As he took his last gasping breaths, Trym pulled the broadsword from its sheath and brought it down on his neck, the weight of it pulling the sword clean through to the dirt.

“Well done, halfling. Very dramatic,” Fennig said as he watched Trym wipe their knife off on a patch of moss. They pointed the knife at him in jest and then got up and kicked the head towards him.

“We’ll have to bring that with us, right? She won’t take our word that we killed him.”

“Well she certainly wouldn’t take your word for it, but she’ll no doubt believe me. Which means, we can leave that wretched thing here,” he said, wiggling his fingers as the head frozen in pain.

“Alright then. Come on, I saw some stalls selling useful supplies, we might as well restock. And I want to talk to that orc boy.” Having been given the go ahead, Diarmaid lept on the head while Brushtick started digging a hole in the goblin’s stomach. The two headed back towards the road leaving the mounts there to clean up the scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Luas" - speed, not very original whats essentially fantasy cocaine, I know  
> "Cas a ’chait" - Cat's foot
> 
> The goblin markets mentioned and in this chapter are inspired by the poem, "The Goblin Market" by Christina Rossetti. It's a really long poem but I'd recommend reading it if you like this kind of stuff.


	18. The Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trym and Fennig meet Tobu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Child abuse, drug use, slavery, mentions of sex

“Answer me this, Fennig. Why don’t faeries lie? Is it a biological thing, like you physically can’t lie?” 

“It’s a cultural thing I assume, almost religious. With a species that doesn’t have any natural concern about what you folk think of as murder, depravity, and torture, the only way we could possibly build a stable society, is to assure one another that whatever rules and systems put in place won’t be broken. Honesty is at the core of all those laws. Essentially, if I say I won’t kill you, then you won’t have to worry about me stabbing you in the back, so then we can trade, do business, and work together.”

“What makes the Unseelie different then? How are you any from the monsters out there?”

“I’m not,” Fennig grinned. “I just grew up in a society with different rules. If I at some point grew to detest those rules, I would simply leave said society for another one, live here in the woods or join the Unseelie.” He let Trym squirm for a moment before putting them at ease. “But I’m fairly happy with the rules I live under. If I were to generalize it, the Unseelie place less value on fairness. The sanctity of contracts isn’t as important there. Your folk at least are protected by your agreements and compensated for your losses here in the Seelie Court.”

“So I get to be used and abused, but in exchange I get magic and a status in the castle, and that’s supposed to be fair?”

“Exactly, it only took you a century to understand that and stop protesting what you agreed to.”

“I’m not in the mood, Fennig.”

\---

The vendors were happy to sell to Trym, and even though they were assured several times that all the meat came from the Faerie realm, Trym still bought nothing but fruit and bread. Fennig however spent the money he’d picked off of Beedlebung’s corpse to buy a long rope of jerky which he happily gnawed on as Trym finished their shopping, staying well away from the abattoir. When they were done, they found their way through the stalls to the one previously owned by Beedlebung.

They found the boy standing nervously as the three hags from before shouted at him and waved fistfuls of silver coins clutched in their boney, wart-covered hands at him. He was shaking his head and trying to tell them to wait for Beedlebung, repeating over and over again that these weren’t his to sell and that they would have to come back. Trym thought he would be relieved to see them, but instead his wide eyes grew with fear. 

“Ladies, please go away now. I can’t help you.” Seeing Trym and Fennig approaching, the trio begrudgingly left. Trym kept thinking of him as a boy but as they approached him, they saw just how large he was standing at full height, which was to be expected of a half orc. But despite that, he was lean and still had the voice of a child.

“He didn’t sell me, did he?” he asked nervously. “He kept threatening he would sell me to the butchers…”

Trym was never good with children. A faint memory resurfaced of an old woman from their hometown calling them a bad influence on her grandchildren.

Trym tried speaking in their softest voice possible, “You’re okay now. We dealt with that terrible man. Are you hungry?” They held out the piece of fruit that they had bought earlier. The kid ignored the offering and started to get panicky.

“What do you mean you dealt with him?” The boy's voice sounded like he was on the verge of tears. “Did you kill Beedlebung? But I need him, he was keeping me safe!” He began to twist his leash tightly in his hands.

“Listen, I’ll keep you safe.” Fenning tried to say something but Trym kept speaking. “We work for a very powerful person and we can take you to her.

“I don’t think that will work,” Fennig said before Trym elbowed him sharply in the stomach.

“Yes it will, I’ll just make another deal with her,” they said quickly, smiling again to try and comfort the boy.

“Halfling, remember when you told me to not let you do anything stupid?”

“Yes, I know what I said!” Trym spit. “I’m saving one kid, okay? One kid in a market full of who knows how many others.”

“I can’t really stop you, but I am letting you know this is a stupid idea.”

“What do you suggest we do with him then? We can’t just leave him here alone!”

“We could sell him…” Fennig said under his breath, stepping back when Trym raised their hand to hit him again.

“Shut up, Fennig.” They turned back to the kid. “Come with us and we can bring you somewhere safe, okay?” He nodded with uncertainty. “Great. Here, let’s get that collar off of you.”

The boy knelt down so that Trym could reach his neck. The buckle was rusted shut and it took some prying to get it open. When they got it loose, the boy winced sharply. The leather was stuck to his skin and as Trym slowly peeled it off, they revealed small metal spikes buried in his skin, each indentation ringed with black dead flesh and red swollen skin, all of them oozing puss.

“That fucking bastard,” Trym whispered as he eased the rest of the collar off. “Fuck, let me see if I can do anything about that.” They laid the hand gently and muttered a spell that was really only meant to stabilize the dying. The gangrenous skin burned away but the welts remained swelling and red with infection. “I’m sure we have something for that back at our camp, don’t worry.”

The boy didn’t speak much as they led him out of the market. He only spoke when Trym asked for his name which he said was Tobu.

When Fennig walked off into the wood to retrieve Diarmaid and Brushtick and brought them back, muzzles covered in blue goblin blood, Tobu got panicky again, jumping back as Diarmaid bounded over to him. Covered in blood, the dog’s excited nuzzling and licking wasn’t well received but at least it showed the boy he wasn’t a threat.

With Brushtick carrying both Tobu and Fennig, they made it back to the safehouse before nightfall. The mule was there waiting for them, completely disinterested in the new addition of Tobu. Fennig busied himself setting up the campfire, avoiding Trym while they tried to help Tobu settle down.

“Here, take my mat.” They were trying their best to make the kid feel comfortable. He was starting to sweat a little but it was probably just his nervousness.

“Uh, sure, okay,” Tobu said quietly. He sat down on the mat as Trym set about getting him some food, but he couldn’t sit still, wringing his hands and fidgeting. Fennig was the only one who noticed.

“Halfing,” He whispered over Trym's shoulder as they rummaged through a trunk. “The kid is not doing so well.” Trym glanced at their shoulder to see Tobu staring blankly at the fire as he squirmed in his seat.

“He’s just nervous, he just needs a warm dinner and a good night's sleep,” they said quickly.

Fennig sighed. “No, halfling. He’s about to start scratching his skin off and you can see it. The goblin had him on a constant diet of _luas_ , he’s going to need more or things are going to get very messy.”

“We’re not giving him any of that shit!” Trym snapped.

“After taking it for this long, he’ll either lose his mind or have a seizure and choke on his own vomit.” Fennig reached into his pocket and pulled out the small wooden box that Beedlebung had had. He popped it open and revealed the shimmering white powder. “I can give him a bit now and then just to keep his body from giving up, try and wean him off of it over time. Or we could just give him the rest, let him drift off in his sleep peacefully…”

Trym stopped listening, dropped into the memory of coming down and waking up curled up next to a corpse. They came out of it while Fennig was still speaking.

“... Even if Titania doesn’t kill him, the withdrawal probably will. But he’s your project, halfling. What do you want to do.”

“I… I don’t want to give this to a child… I can’t,” Trym said quietly. Fennig snapped the box shut.

“Perfect, well that solves all our problems. I guess it’s not considered murder if it’s indirect?” he said bitterly. Trym ignored him and finished putting some food together for Tobu. They smiled and gave the boy a packet of dried fruits and a square of not-too-stale bread and quickly fried up some meat. He accepted the food with shaky hands. It wasn’t long before Tobu was vomiting it all back up on the ground right next to Trym’s mat.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, we have plenty,” Trym cooed as the boy coughed. “I’ll just grab some more.” Trym caught Fennig staring at them from across the fire.  
With surprising strength, Tobu caught Trym’s arms as they pulled away to rummage through the bags again.

“I’m actually not that hungry. I think I just want to go to sleep, if that’s okay?” As he looked at Trym with his tired eyes, they saw how bloodshot the boy’s eyes were. “I think I just need to sleep.”

Trym nodded slowly, backing away to sit with Fennig and leaving the boy to curl up with his back to the fire. Diarmaid lay down next to him, and within seconds, his breathing had slowed and he looked to be sound asleep. 

“Eat something, halfling,” Fennig said as he ate. Trym just sat there watching Tobu’s back.

“I really don’t want him to die, Fennig,” Trym said softly. Fennig stopped eating.

“I don’t think there are many scenarios where he doesn’t. Titania’s not going to let her pet bring some dirty stray into her castle. I don’t know why you’re choosing to delude yourself. The best thing at this point, would be to give him the rest of the _luas_ and let it stop his heart. It’s not the worst way to die.” Trym heard his voice waver as he said it..

“No, we are not going to do that.”

“You’d rather let him die slowly and painfully going through withdrawal?”

“No… The nymphs at the castle will be able to help him right?” Trym said slowly.

“Most likely. But only if Titania lets him through the gate.”

“Okay then.”

They sat in silence, Trym watching Tobu and Fennig watching Trym. Finally, Trym spoke again.

“You seem like you actually care what happens to this kid.”

“I just don’t want to watch you senselessly put him through so much pain when there are easier alternatives” Fennig said slowly. “It’s unnecessarily cruel.”

“A faerie lecturing me on cruelty,” Trym muttered.

“I’m not the one content to watch a kid slowly die in front of them.”

They were quiet for a bit, watching the fire eat away at the branches they had fed it.

“You won’t understand but I need to help him,” Trym said.

“You’re right, I don’t understand. I would never let a child suffer if they didn’t have to but it’s not up to me. I didn’t take responsibility for him.” Fennig dropped the matter and went back to his food.

After a moment, Trym reached for something to eat as well.

“Why did you even come with me on this crusade with me if you think I’m so stupid?” Trym asked sincerely.

“I wanted to leave the castle just as much as you did. But your never ending questions, they make it very hard not to just leave you here alone.”

“I ask too many questions?” Trym said smiling. “Fine, let's even the scores. Ask me something, whatever you want to know about the Queen’s sex life, go ahead.” Fennig ears perked up at that and he smiled wickedly as he thought.

“What’s your name, halfing?” Fennig finally asked. Having prepared themself for something more obscene, Trym was actually shocked.

“You don’t know my fucking name?” Trym said, visibly pissed. Fennig just looked confused.

“No? Everyone in the castle knows that Amadán isn’t your real name, it’s Sylvan for ‘fool.’ I assume the only person who knows your real name is Titania and yourself,” Fennig said slowly.

“I just thought you and all the attendants were just assholes… why don’t any of you know my name?” they asked suspiciously.

“I thought it was my turn to ask a question,” Fennig said, sitting back on his mat.

“Trym. My name is Trym Talbot.”

“Well, Trym Talbot” Fennig said, over pronouncing their name, as they looked up at them. “Names have power in the faerie realms. There are a great number of awfully nasty spells where a person's given name is the main component.” He smiled devilishly as he said that. Trym’s dropped jaw sending Fennig in a fit of laughter. When he could breathe again, he cleared their concern.

“But what use do I have for a spell like that? I just wanted something to call you other than halfing.” He reached over and gave Trym a firm pat of the shoulder. “But as a rule of thumb, don’t give out your name to just any fae.”

“Good to know. Thanks, Fennig.” Trym chuckled nervously. “Any other burning questions?” He leaned in closer again, smiling.

“Who’s on top, you or Titania?”

“Depends.”

“Do you ever get off with her?”

“Again, depends.”

“On what?”

“Whether or not she lets me.”

They kept the fire going for most of the night, Fennig laughing and asking questions of Titania and their life before, while Trym kept one eye on Tobu sleeping restlessly.


	19. At the Border

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party approaches the border of the Seelie Court and prepares to enter the Unseelie domains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: Drug use, disassociation, vomiting.

When Trym woke up, Tobu was gone. They jumped up, back sore from the hard ground they had slept on, kicking Fennig awake.

“Tobu? Tobu!” Their calling was met with the loud sound of retching. From behind a bush rose Tobu whose pale grey skin was now almost white. He was shivering even though the forest was humid and warm.

“Oh, hi Trym. Sorry, I was just feeling a bit sick,” he said weakly as he wiped bile from his mouth.

“It’s okay, don’t apologize. Here, I’ll make some hot food, that will make you feel better.” Trym helped him get back to the mat as Fennig slowly woke up.

Fennig got up just in time to see Tobu hunched over again dry-heaving into the bush.

“Let’s have some breakfast and get going! We’ve got a lot of ground to cover today,” Trym tried to say cheerfully. Fennig looked at them unconvinced as he got to his feet.

With Tobu helping as much as he could, they made a small pot of porridge. This time, Tobu was able to keep it down and as they ate, Trym could see some color coming back to his cheeks. With a bit of rearranging, they were able to strap down the supplies on the mule leaving just enough space for Tobu to ride it. Trym didn’t think the beast even had a limit on how much it could hold; it barely shifted as Tobu climbed on.

Their next destination was a settlement where they would be able to check off the last three names from Titania’s list before turning around. Getting back to the castle and getting Tobu help was the most important thing right now. The only issue is that the town was just over the border in Unseelie territory.

“How are we even allowed to go there?” Trym asked while they rode at a steady trot down a dirt road. It seemed to Trym that the closer they got to the border, the more traffic there was, passing the occasional traveller walking alongside the well trodden road.

“I assume Titania and Oberon must have some sort of agreement, some extradition treaty.” Fennig and Trym were riding side by side with Tobu just behind them, who had started to zone out staring at the trees after they left camp. “While we’re on the subject, if you have any spells that might change your appearance I would use them once we cross the border. Remember how I said the rules are different there?”

“Lucky me, glamours are a Faerie magic specialty.” They concentrated for a moment before casting the spell, which stretched and pulled at their body uncomfortably before leaving them in the form of a particularly short hobgoblin. Fennig stared with wide eyes at Trym.

“That is extremely very unnerving,” Fennig said, looking over Trym’s new dark red skin and shiny black hair. “But… no one should be any wiser.”

Fennig stared at them for an uncomfortably long time before speaking again

“Go back to normal please, this… really doesn’t suit you.” Trym laughed in a deep hobgoblin voice and ended the spell, shrinking down to their usual size.

“There’s a problem though. I can’t cast the spell on anyone but myself. We’ll need to figure out what to do with Tobu.” They look back at him to find the kid out of focus again, glassy eyes watching the trees pass.

“That’s simple enough. We find a holding near the border and leave him on the Seelie side with Brushtick and Diarmaid, he’ll be fine.”

“I guess,” said Trym. “Wouldn’t it be better to bring him with us, pretend he… I don't know, belonged to us?”

“Trym, I can't be complicit in a lie like that,” Fennig said looking at them. “You have a job to do. It was your choice to complicate it by dragging him along.”

Trym turned around to look at Tobu again. “Tobu. Tobu!” they shouted, snapping him out of his stupor. “We have to do a job across the border. Will you be okay if we leave at camp with Brushtick and Diarmaid? They won’t let anything happen to you.”

He nodded and smiled weakly as if he understood and then turned back to watch the trees pass.

“He’s barely conscious,” Trym whispered, turning back to Fennig. 

Fennig took a look at the boy and shrugged. “That’s to be expected, his body is winding down. It's only going to get worse. Some _luas_ would bring him back to reality for a while if you’re that concerned about it.”

“Fennig,” Trym said warningly. “I already said we’re not doing that, okay?”

“Whatever you say, Trym.”

\---

The holding they stayed in that night was the most intact one they had found, probably since it was so close to the present border, one of the younger relics from the end of the war. It seemed to be a repurposed home, a small cottage that was reinforced with a spiked wooden fence. A large gaping hole in the wall suggested the barrier hadn’t been enough.

Diarmaid growled as they approached so Trym hopped off and set him loose to drive out whatever had been living in the building since it was abandoned. He bounded through the hole in the wall and they could hear terrifying squeaking and a few unpleasant crunching sounds as he cleaned up.

“Home sweet home,” Trym said as they climbed through the wall. The roof was thankfully intact and the broken rotting furniture had all piled against the doors and windows, leaving plenty of room in the middle of the room for a small fire.

Brushtick whined, unable to fit through the makeshift door, as Fennig and Tobu followed Trym inside.

“Comfy,” Fennig said sarcastically, leading a still dazed Tobu to sit on the moss covered floor. “He should come back to us in a while.”

Trym could see the boy slowly starting to recognize his surroundings now that they had stopped moving.

Filling the silence, Fennig decided to review their next three targets out loud while they left the house and unpacked.

“The next one,” he said, tying the two horses to a tree while Trym unpacked the mule, “If I remember correctly, he was accused of making deals and failing to provide payment...” Brushtick nipped at Trym when they reached up to remove her saddle and Fennig smiled, patting her neck and doing it himself.

“It came to light that he had been stealing children from your world making empty promises, and killing them to be sold in goblin markets. When the case was brought to them, the Seelie Court and the Queen decided he had broken their laws and the fae fled across the border before he could be punished. It seems he thought he could continue his business safely under the Unseelie court where it was allowed.”

“Can’t be a very fair trial if Titania is the judge.” Trym picked up their bedding and what they needed to make dinner and crawled through the hole in the wall.

“Titania holds trials traditionally. The accused makes their case, the accuser gives their’s, and then she and her courtiers pass a verdict,” Fennig explained, following them inside with his own things in hand.

While they had been talking outside, Tobu had come back to himself and had started gathering debris to build a fire. He smiled as they entered and hurried over to take the things from Trym’s hands.

“I’ve got it, Tobu,” Trym tried to protest but the boy had already lifted the supplies away from the halfling.

“It’s no problem,” Tobu said happily. As Trym looked at his tired bloodshot eyes, they saw a drop of blood start to gather on the tip of his nose.

“You have something…” Trym said, pointing, and Tobu quickly wiped his nose with the back of his hand, smearing blood across it.

“Oh, sorry about that,” he said quietly wiping the blood off on his dirty tunic and turning away to start preparing dinner.

Fennig kept talking as though nothing was wrong. “The other two are a couple. I think they used to work in the Queen’s castle before relocating to the settlement across the border. There wasn't much more information about them so I assume they just offended the Queen and ran.”

“Sounds good,” Trym said, only half listening. Tobu was visibly struggling to undo the leather buckled of the pack he had taken from Trym because of how much his hands were shaking.

“Do you think we could take care of all three tonight?” Their urgency to get back to the palace has grown since yesterday.

Fennig followed their gaze to Tobu. “You don’t want to savour your time away from the Queen? Ah yes, there’s your complication,” he muttered sarcastically.

“He needs to get help from the nymphs as quickly as possible,” Trym said sternly.

“He’ll be fine if you just give him the _luas_. _You’re_ the one making him sick.” Fennig’s voice was sharp.

“I’m not going to drug a child, Fennig!” Trym whispered angrily. “Why can’t you get that through your fucking skull and understand that.”

“The only thing I need to understand is that your ward is suffering and you refuse to help him. You made a promise to keep him safe and you’re killing him,” Fennig shot back.

“I am keeping him safe and getting him back to the castle will do that!”

“You’re shouting, Trym. Can you guarantee that Titania will even let him in? There’s a good chance the child dies anyway because you want to gamble with the Queen’s goodwill.”

“That stuff is poison and I’m not giving it to him, so fucking drop it. I’ll make a deal with Titania just like I did before,” Trym spat.

“And what exactly do you have left to offer her.”

“I don’t know but I’ll fucking think of something, Fennig!” Their arguing had caught Tobu’s attention who was listening from his place by the fire. Catching his gaze, Trym softened their voice to assure him. “Sorry about that, Tobu. Didn’t mean for you to hear that, everything’s going to be fine so don’t worry.”

Fennig stepped outside while Trym tried to comfort Tobu. When he returned, he was carrying a knife. He knelt down next to the two of them and spoke gently. “We’ll both be gone for the night,” he said handing Tobu the dagger. “You most likely won’t need this, Brushtick and Diarmaid will stay here to protect you. Trym, let’s talk outside,” he said coldly.

Stepping out into the growing darkness, Fennig suddenly shoved Trym against the wall.

“Do not lie to the child. Everything will not be fine. It’s better if he does die from the withdrawal,” he whispered violently. “He won't die in that castle, not from old age. He will never grow or mature while he lives in this world, don’t you get that _blaigard_?” He pushed Trym’s shoulder into the wall again when they tried to respond. “Have you ever noticed a single grey hair on your head for the centuries you’ve lived here? If you get him in that castle he’ll be trapped there forever. Best case scenario, he ends up like you, miserable and bitter.” Fennig took a step back, leaving Trym to slump down against the wall.

“You don’t care about him, you just don’t want to be alone anymore,” he finished before walking back inside.

Trym sat there as the light disappeared. They gripped themself, fingers digging into their skin as their mind started to spiral. _Was it really better for him to just die?_ The pressure of having to decide what to do with someone else's life was overwhelming and Trym could feel their mind drifting to places they didn’t want to think about.

“What else can I do,” Trym whispered to the darkness.

They could hear Fennig talking to Tobu, telling him how to hold the knife and what to do if they didn’t come back by morning. It wasn’t long before Fenning came out again, throwing Trym’s broadsword down at their feet.

“If we’re efficient and you spare the dramatics we can deal with all three traitors before dawn, now let’s hurry.” Trym got up without speaking and strapped their sword to their back. Polespear in hand, Fennig motioned for them to follow and set off running into the woods.


End file.
